


Lightning Feeling

by acidveins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Based off an art project, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Harry's unsure about the vacation and he's unsure about Liam, M/M, Summer, There's a lot of fluff and a lot of dumb metaphors, Vacation, but mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:45:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1442248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidveins/pseuds/acidveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The trip to Wengen was uncertain in the first place, Harry doesn’t know how he ended up never wanting to leave.<em></em></em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em><br/><em>(Or a Summer AU in which Harry, Niall and Zayn go to a small town in Switzerland called Wengen. There, Harry meets nostalgic lodges, breathtaking views and a boy who works too hard and show’s Harry a world completely new.)</em></em><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii, welcome to a WIP!
> 
> These suck. I know. But. It's only going to be five chapters so. I'm thinking we'll be done with this pretty soon. It's more of a side project, really, my main concern is the Divergent AU, but this one got me the most excited so this is the one I put most focus on. It's also based off of an art project for school, as said in the tags, but yeah.
> 
> Here are some important notices : I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO WENGEN. I DO NOT SPEAK THE LANGUAGE SPOKEN IN WENGEN. Though I have done thorough research on the place, it's transportation, it's food, it's culture and the language, I will most probably make a few geographical and/or cultural mistakes and I apologize for that beforehand. If you have ever been to Wengen or speak High Alemannic German, or Bernese German, or Swiss German, which is, as far as I know, the main spoken language in Wengen, and would like to point out a mistake or something, please do!  
> (There are also mentions of previous gryles but Nick himself won't actually appear in the story, though I love him to bits.)
> 
> I don't own anyone, anything, any place, any event. The plot is all fiction and some of the places in the story is based off of places I have researched on, but this is completely, utterly fiction. 
> 
> Also, this is self beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy !! 
> 
> ([tumblr](http://www.harryendous.tumblr.com/))

There’s a cloud hanging in the atmosphere, feeling foreign and misplaced in the otherwise sunny day and looking outside the fogged window, Harry’s feeling a lot like that cloud. (It’s times like this Harry wonders where exactly he stands in life because he’s comparing himself to a cloud, and though thats not really weird, it isn’t exactly normal either.)

 

Either way, he’s sitting on a train and it feels a lot like making a mistake. The kind of mistake that you _know_ is a mistake, but you go ahead and do it anyways, just because you kind of have to and for an assumable ‘vacation,’ Harry’s feeling like going on this trip is very much against his will.

 

“Take in the view boys, we won’t be seeing car’s for the next two weeks!” Niall, his overenthusiastic, but otherwise relatively calm best friend says from the seat in front of him, and he sounds like it’s a _good_ thing. Harry’s trying his best not to scowl because he’s going to give Wengen (the town they’re going - an alpine village in the Bernese Oberland. Niall’s been going on about for weeks) a chance. He’s reluctant, but he’s not shallow, he’s not ignorant. So he doesn’t scowl. But when he does speak, he pointedly sounds a lot less ebullient than Niall did. 

 

“Great. Definitely need the exercise.” It’s not sarcastic. It’s not. But Harry is defensive, so arguably, it could be. 

 

“How long’s the ride, though?” he asks when neither Niall or his other best friend, Zayn, reacts to his comment. Harry’s aware of how clueless he is about this entire trip in general because Niall and Zayn had _forced_ (ok, not forced, but _insisted,_ strongly insisted) he join them on this summer trip and he only began packing for it last night. “I can’t remember for the life of me, Niall?” Zayn says from where he’s sitting beside Harry rubbing an eye and Harry know’s he’s going to be out in a matter of seconds and that his brain can’t even recall his middle name because Zayn needs his beauty sleep more than London needs some sun. 

 

Niall and Zayn’d planned most of this trip. The’d been nagging at Harry about ‘going on a summer vacation somewhere’ for ages, and they’d finally managed to squeeze two weeks (if not more) from him and so now they’re here. In Bern HB Station, on their way to Wengen and Harry thinks of the wooden, wilting desk in his flat with most of his summer reading stored on it and he’s feeling homesick from the pit of his stomach to the skin of his neck, he’s feeling sick and he’s anxious to get these two weeks done and over with so that Niall can stop nagging and so that Zayn can stop making him feel guilty about missing the Paris trip the previous Spring and so that he can go back home. 

 

“Hour and a half. We’ll be there midday, around five.” Niall says but he’s distracted in the way he reaches for some flyer from the small rucksack he’d been heaving around the airport from London to Bern. Harry, from where he’s sitting, can make out a faint picture of white snow and bold words reading ‘Perfect Family Vacation! Pack your bags for Wengen and enjoy the...’ and the rest of the words are hidden by Niall’s thumb. 

 

The seats of the train are dark and washed out and from outside, they can see a parking lot. It’s cold in the train but the noise from the area fills the place with warmth.

 

“And what will the temperature be at midday, around five?” Harry asks, wondering if he should pull out a scarf because he’s wearing a sweater that belongs (belong _ed_ , really, Harry isn’t giving it back) to Nick and though it’s large and comfortable, it may not be so much suitable.

 

“Not bad. ‘M guessing around 10 degrees celsius, pretty humid around the town and around where we’re staying.” And it’s like a legitimate, actual answer that is fairly helpful and Harry starts laughing. 

 

“What?” Niall asks, frowning at Harry before turning to face Zayn, who’s curled up into a ball in his seat and resting his head against the wall. Zayn provides nothing but a shrug, batting his eyes closed and humming out a sigh.  

 

“I can’t believe you’ve actually done research on this place,” Harry manages and the laugh feels more bitter than anything. Because this means Niall must actually really like Wengen and Harry’s not going to be able to cut the trip down to two days. Sigh. 

 

“Of course I have,” Niall scoffs, reaching over and swatting Harry’s knee’s, “Who do you take me for? I wouldn’t bring you anywhere less than perfect.” 

 

“And you would know Wengen is perfect because?” Harry asks because Niall’s never actually been to Switzerland. He’s questioning how Niall found the small town in the first place.

 

“Like you said, I’ve actually done research, plus, Josh’d went there for a ski trip with his team last winter. Told me the place was amazing.”

 

“So we’re going to Wengen, after paying and all, based on your google research skills and your trust on Josh’s judgement.” Harry asks and it’s not defensive, it’s questionable. He’s curious, not bitter. Really.

 

“And-” Zayn suddenly says and oh, he wasn’t asleep. “Because of it’s amazing mountain views.”

 

“That’s right,” Niall grins, “Our Zayn’s going to draw the fuck out of the mountains in Wengen.”

 

“Now if only we could get you to fuck the fuck out of a guy,” Harry smirks and Zayn perks up, sliding a hand under Harry’s sweater and pinching his love handles and Harry’s let out a giggle because that _tickles_. 

 

“That’s rich, coming from you, Mr Harry-High-Standards-Styles,” Zayn snorts and Harry wrinkles his nose at the name. 

 

“Better than what they called me in twelfth grade-”

 

“Oh yeah! ‘Harry-No-Style-Styles’,” Niall says through a snort and Zayn joins him while Harry curses atboth of them, wondering why he was friends with them for so long in the first place. Then he remembers it was because they’d stuck by him through his days of ‘Harry-No-Style-Styles.’

 

“Just because I wore jeans with a hole and that hideous wooly scarf.” Harry mutters, frowning at the memory. To be fair, he does actually own a few pairs of ripped jeans because apparently, they’re in style now. 

 

“Yet, you still have both those things,” Zayn counters and Harry wants to punch him for knowing that. “Particularly the scarf.”

 

“Bet you he’s actually packed it in his suitcase,” Niall says, cheeks flushed from laughing and Harry wants to pull him into a hug because Niall is his best friend and he’s suddenly feeling very affectionate. Instead he grins at him from his seat. 

 

He hears the slow rumble of the train starting and an announcement is made by the intercom. The trains about to start. 

 

“Alright, I’m off to catch up on my sleep. See you soon, boys,” Zayn mutters before shutting his eyes for real and breathing deeply from his nose.

 

“Oh!” Niall says as if he’d suddenly remembered something. “I’ve brought a snack.” And he looks so proud of himself, reaching for his bag and pulling out a mini packed of digestives.

 

“For an hour and a half-” Harry starts, reaching for the biscuits. “You brought a fun sized pack of digestives?” He’s not really hungry, they’d eaten stale sandwiches and bitter coffee at the airport, but it’s always fun poking fun at Niall. 

 

“Don’t criticize my packing knowledge, I didn’t think you’d be all that hungry.” Niall pouts, pulling his biscuits back and Harry just shakes his head, leaning back agains the head rest. 

 

“I’m not,” he says with a smile, “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” He notes, taking in Niall’s giddy face and tapping toes. He’s glad Niall’s here. He doesn’t think he’d just leave his home and summer to go to a trip he isn’t even all that keen on going to for just anyone. 

 

“I am, Harry,” Niall smiles. “And you should be to.” 

 

Harry just sighs. “Niall-”

 

“I know you’re not to happy about going and stuff, but Haz, just think about it,” Niall says, eyes sincere, “Two weeks. Just me, you and Zayn. By the mountains and away from it all. It’s going to be fucking amazing.”

 

Harry’s not convinced, but Niall’s looking hopeful, so he manages out a weak smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

 

He’s doing this for Niall, he finalizes. He’s doing this for Zayn. He’s doing this for his mother who thinks he spends too much time with his textbooks. He’s doing this for two weeks

 

//

 

“It’s a lot warmer than you said, no?” Zayn says quietly, stepping out of the Wengernalp Railway after Harry, lunging his suitcase behind him but no one’s really answering him because the sight is sort of breathtaking. They’re about 4ft above sea level and it’s like they can see everything; from where they stand, it feels like they’re above everything.  
Just outside the station itself, they can see green for days. The peak of a mountain is in the distance and Harry know’s the name of the mountain range starts with a J (or G. B?) because Niall’s told him about this. Either way, it’s pretty darn gorgeous and the entire place feels like a deep breath in. Calm. Slow. Harry’s absolutely stunned by it. 

 

“Course it’s warm, Zee,” Niall all but squeals because he has the right to. He’d suggested a pretty, small town and it’s every bit as gorgeous as he’d described it and Harry’s not got a single negative thing to say about it. Yet. “It’s summer. Duh. Now look at that gorgeous view, Jesus Christ, our lodge’s promised one like it, too. But with more of the mountains. I double checked and everything....” but Harry’s sort of blocking Niall’s voice to a blur because as he breathes in air that isn’t familiar and looks at a place that isn’t home, but is still so beautiful, he needs this moment to sort of catch himself. It’s overwhelming, really. Finishing second year in collage, with marks soaring to the point his mother’d actually called up and said she’s worried he’s working himself too hard, and then being whisked away to a surprise summer trip Harry faintly remembered discussing with Niall but never really finalizing. But now. Now he’s here- Wengen. And it’s every bit as lovely as the brochures and pictures promised it would be and Harry’s feeling strangely disappointed.

 

“Lets go, _c’mon_ , such fucking slow arse’s, lets go,” he hears Niall from somewhere behind him and then footprints suggest Zayn’s following Niall somewhere and Harry should probably follow too, so he does. 

 

Everything seems pretty much at walking distance, really. After making their way out of the station, it’s just a matter of navigating their way to their lodge and Niall’s the only one who actually know’s the name of the place so he follows Niall. They pass the heart of the town, and there’s a cable car station called The Wengen-Männlichen aerial cableway and Niall say’s it links Wengen to the Männlichen and Niall’s seems way too excited to see it. “We should definitely come here tomorrow. Get a head start on the hiking, the summit of the Männlichen’s got a sick view of the Lauterbrunnen valley, and we-”

 

“Niall,” Harry interrupts slowly. His voice sounds tired in his own ears. “We just traveled to Switzerland. Even the mere _thought_ of hiking sounds like hell right now, can you please take us to the lodge?” 

 

Niall pouts again, but keeps moving past the bright lights that brighten the town and it’s actually nearing 7 and everything seems to have a hollow glow; somewhat warm, somewhat cool and very, very pretty.

 

By the time they make it to their lodge, Harry’s on the brink of collapsing into a pile of lifeless bones on the floor because wow, walking around a town was distinctively much harder than riding on some sort of vehicle, even if they walked for, like, 10 minuets tops and yeah, Harry really did need to work out. It’s pretty from the outside, the lodge. A lot like cackling fire because of it’s warm, wooden exterior and a lot like thunder because it stood a little far from the middle of town, sort of excluded, loud enough to make a statement in the way it stood daringly near the outskirts of the village and subtle in the way it looked like serenity.  


“Fucking hell, Niall. Is it safe?” Harry mutters as they made their way to the front entrance.

 

“Course it’s safe, I’m the one who found it, excuse you.” Zayn glares before pushing his way in and it’s like walking into sunlight. Like being engulfed by warmth and stepping into...a parallel universe or something because everything was made of honey wood and the dim lighting of the room felt like the glow of a oven back home during Christmas. The front room was empty, quiet like a hollow wind.

 

“Wilkomme!” someone says from the front desk and Harry turns to see a pretty girl with a wide smile. She seems to be the only person there. “I’m Eleanor, how can I help you?” She says with wide eyes and Harry thinks she looks too excited at a time like this. Like Niall. 

 

“Hiii,” Niall starts, putting his luggage down by his feet in the middle of the room and walking over to her. “I’m Niall? I’ve made reservations under the name of Horan?”

 

“Oh, yes, yes. You booked through the telephone, right?” she asks, rummaging some files before turning to the laptop in front of her and clicking away. 

 

“Uh, yes. One of the apartment suits? For fourteen days.” Niall sounds unsure and Harry walks over to bump shoulders with him. 

 

“Right, I have your reservations right here, yes. I’ll get your keys.” She says and Harry turns to find Zayn looking through the window. It was fairy dark, nearing night. 

 

“Is this your first time in Switzerland?” Eleanor asked, turning to face Harry and Niall, sorting out keys into a little cardboard key packet. 

 

“Yeah, ‘s our first time here,” Harry replies and then thinking better of it, adds “I’m, uh, I’m Harry,” shoving his hands into the sleeves of his sweater and looking at the pictures hung up on the wall. They were mostly landscape pictures of what Harry imagines is the view of the mountains from some high peak. “Nice to meet you Harry,” Eleanor smiles, “And welcome to Wengen. Have you come for vacation?” She asks but it’s not like she’s prying, so Harry doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite likes how much Eleanor smiles because it keeps from making it awkward in here. 

 

“Summer trip, yeah,” Zayn says, coming up behind Harry and smiling softly. ”I’m Zayn, ‘s a pleasure to meet you,” He extends a hand for Eleanor to shake before continuing “Do you happen to serve room service? It’s getting pretty late, and we don’t really know our way ‘round town yet.” Right. This was why Zayn was here. To make sure they were all properly fed and alive.

 

“We do!” Eleanor smiles, holding key’s out to Niall, “You’ll find a menu in your room. We actually close pretty early, but I’ll make sure we’ll be open for your order. Your room number is 511.” Eleanor points to the wooden stairs near the left, “Just take the stairs to the top floor and make a right. It was nice meeting you all, I hope you enjoy your stay.” 

 

“Right, thank you,” Niall whisks, smiling shortly before hurrying to pick up his bags and heading upstairs while Zayn and Harry follow him, muttering thank you’s of their own to Eleanor because she smiled very brightly and kept the people working in the kitchen late for them so. 

 

Walking upstairs, every floor carried a noise of its own. There weren’t many rooms at all, but the third floor had a child crying and the fourth floor definitely had a passionate couple in one of the rooms. But. Reaching the top, it was quite quiet. There was a hum, soft and slow in the corridors. The same hum that was carried through out the street; a gentle vibe that made Harry want to close his eyes and fall asleep constantly. 

 

“You’ve seen pictures of the lodge, right? I emailed you some?” Niall asks Harry because Harry’s practically come on this trip following Niall and Zayn blindly. He, in all actuality, didn’t have any knowledge of the village they were in or the place were they were staying at or what the fuck he was even doing. Very responsible of him, yes. 

 

“Uh, yeah..?” Harry asks because he actually hasn’t so. Responsible. 

 

“Wow, Harry. Wow. You never fail to remind me that you’re the youngest of us all.” Zayn mutters, but it’s amused because they all really love Harry, no matter how much they tease him of being irresponsible and picky when it came to men and horrible when it came to style. 

 

“They were _blurry_ ,” Harry weakly cries as if it could even count as an excuse as Niall silently laughed and tugged the keys into the door to open their room.

 

“Either way, I have a feeling you’re going to love it,” Niall grins back at him before pushing the door open and feeling around to turn the lights on. 

 

It wasn’t large. And by far not the fanciest. They walk into what Harry assumes was some sort of a lounge room with a single cream sofa, with a mini kitchen-counter thing pushed to the far left of the room. The walls are painted a milky, burnt white and there is a small television in front of the sofa that just screamed ‘static blurs and horrid quality.’ It feels very warm. 

 

“There are two rooms, king sized bed each, so I was thinking-” Zayn starts, putting his luggage down and crossing his arms.

 

“Dibs on one!” Harry interrupts, hurrying off to the first door he could find. Opening he found that it was a marble toilet. “Dammit-” He mutters, turning to another door and opening to a actual room. 

 

“Dibs! I call dibs on this room!” Harry yells and it echo’s through the walls and past the small apartment. 

 

“Not fair,” He can hear Niall pout from where he’s looking around the place he’s claimed as his. It was, once again, nothing fancy. A large bed with tissue white sheets. The four walls painted honey like the wood from the outside and a painting of waves hanging above the bed. Harry could see a large window pushed to back of the room, ivory curtains drawn, making the room feel tight, and yet still void. 

 

“Leave it. The fucker won’t be able to sleep without one of us,” He can hear Zayn mutter to Niall and he pouts to himself. Not true, he would make sure of it. 

 

He takes off his shoes and puts on the fluffy disposable slippers they have in the cupboard, tugs off his skinny jeans and sweater because the scent of London lingers in the seams of the material and London smells a lot like home, so he needs that as far away from him as possible. He puts on lose joggers and a sleeping shirt because the temperatures dropped quite a bit and walking around naked wouldn’t be smart even for his five year old brain. 

 

He finds Zayn in the other room on the other side of the apartment, unpacking his stuff and listening to Bon Iver from his phone out loud so the noise fills the room. Niall’s in the toilet, taking a shower, so Harry plops down on their bed and waits to order dinner, flipping through the menu from the bedside table. Zayn only glances at him once, raises a eyebrow, but turns back to unpacking.

 

Once Niall comes out, only swatting Harry on the head and calling him a twat and Zayn’s done glaring at Harry for a total of five seconds, they order cheese on toast and sausages, even though it’s from the breakfast menu because it’s the only thing they could recognize. 

 

And when they’re all full of cheese and bread and orange juice, Harry crawls out of their bed and heads to his room because it was getting dark and Harry’s body was drowning in lassitude.

 

He walked into the tiny bathroom by his room, brushed his teeth, splashed cold water over his pale face and was about to crawl into bed with a book when he remembered Niall saying their room would have a brilliant view of the mountains, and suddenly, he wanted to look at that; look at that view that he probably wouldn’t be able to make much of because it was already so dark. 

 

Either way, he sleepily walks to the window, bedroom dark and only illuminated by the dim bedside lamp, creating a tired, dreamy glow. He drew the pale curtain back and breathed in what he could see. The sky was fairly blue, dark and celestially murky, feeling amorphous and limitless, dotted with bright, crystalline stars that looked like twinkling eyes. He could make out shadows of mountains, looking larger than life and so close to reach. Harry let out a slow breath, like the drags of a cigar, wondering what he was doing here. Letting himself ask the question if it was even worth it. Everywhere he looked, in the small expanse of mountain his vision had access to, he could see dark angles and sharp blurs and everything felt new; everything felt unfamiliar, and the longer Harry stared at the landscape before him, the more he felt like he was drowning in it. Drowning in a way that was new and different and so, so scary. 

 

//

 

Harry woke up first, and he woke up to a headache. 

 

It wasn’t unexpected, considering he got about an hour of actual sleep last night because apparently, looking outside a window can leave you scarred, to the point where you just lay in bed and question your entire existence because that’s what happened to Harry. But then again, Harry tended to overreact and over think, so maybe that was unreliable evidence. 

 

With a sigh, he heaved out of bed and trudged out of his room. There was sunlight streaming like strokes of a dry brush colouring the room and seeping through the thin material covering the window. He didn’t bother looking out again. Who knows. This time, it might leave him questioning his life plans. Or his intentions in minecraft. Whatever.

 

He stumbled into the kitchen, the small apartment was silent to the ears and everything was white and warm, drenched in morning. Harry made it to the counter barely balancing, one hand rubbing the sides of this head as he wondered if Niall and Zayn would let him sleep through the day. 

 

Opening one of the few wooden cupboards, he found...absolutely nothing. Great. But. There was a little container in the counter with teabags, coffee mix, creamers and sugar, and he spotted a electronic kettle by the small fridge, so at least he could make tea. 

 

He trotted around for a mug, and found four in one of the other cupboards, so using this as a ‘thanks for giving me the room, guys’ gift, he decided to make tea for Niall and Zayn.  
Humming to himself, he boiled the water and made them all tea filled with cream and tons of sugar, even though Zayn didn’t have a sweet tooth like he did. He figured Zayn would appreciate it anyway.

 

“Morning,” He heard someone grumble behind him and even before turning around, he knew it was Niall. “You’re up early.” Niall notes, taking a seat in the tiny round table by the counter, taking one of the mugs and wrapping his fingers around it. 

 

“Yeah, didn’t sleep to well,” Harry said distractedly, stirring his own mug.

 

“No?” Niall quirked an eyebrow, frowning a little. “Why not?” 

 

Harry just shrugged, rubbing an eye before taking a long gulp of hot tea, letting the sweet liquid burn its way down his throat. “ ‘s nothing,” and he can see Niall is about to press harder on the matter, so he speaks up again, “Is Zayn up? His tea’ll go cold,” Harry changes the subject, not wanting to make Niall worry. 

 

“He’s still out. I don’t think he’ll be up for a long time though.” Niall said but with a smirk in his voice and Harry knew exactly why. 

 

“Oh?” Harry asked, his own voice awakening, “And should we do anything about it?”

 

“Well, we could be considerate friends and let the poor boy get his rest-” Niall stars, tilting his head and grinning at Harry in a way that Harry just had to grin back. 

 

“Or we could dump a bucket of cold water down his shirt.”

 

//

 

“Morning boys, how was your night?” Eleanor greeted when the three of them (of course they went with dumping water down over Zayn’s head. What kind of friends would they be if they hadn’t?) walks into the front desk. The morning has made its way all around the lodge and everything feels strangely alive; there is a buzz throughout the corridors and they’ve seen a few guests walking around the place. Harry concludes that he likes it much more now, liked it much more when it felt like he wasn’t the only place here. 

 

“Fine, and yours?” Zayn smiles because Eleanor was grinning like the sun, wearing a shirt that had the lodge’s logo printed on.

 

“Good, good. Thank you for asking.” She just smiles for a second before blinking rapidly, as if she’d just remembered something, “Have you had breakfast?” 

 

“Uh, no- we actually came down here to ask if there was a bakery or something nearby?” Niall asked sheepishly.

 

“Yes actually, there is.” Eleanor smiled and Harry wondered if she was ever anything but happy. Or assumably happy. “We have one right here,” oh. “It’s run by room service,” she said, pointing to a tinted door opposite the stairs.

 

Niall turned back to face her. “Do they serve croissants?” It was like he was challenging her, and she didn’t look like she would cower away anytime soon.

 

“They sure do,” and then, “layered in butter,” and Niall was away in a flash, leaving Eleanor laughing after him, Harry smiling fondly and Zayn rolling his eyes because Niall was just so overdramatic. Especially in front of pretty girls. 

 

While Zayn moved to follow, Harry lingered back and turned to face Eleanor with a short smile. “Um, sorry to be a bother-”

 

“Not at all!” She interrupted, sitting on her seat and smiling wildly up at Harry, “how can I help you?”

 

“I was just wondering if there was any nearby convenient store? To buy tea and biscuits? I sort of need to stock up, and we’ve already finished what was in the kitchen, so-”

 

“Babe, first of all, everything in Wengen is nearby,” She stopped to smile knowingly and Harry only shrugged. “So yes, there is a mini mart near the town hall, which is pretty close by. Five minuet walk, at most.” 

 

“Thank you-” He stopped himself because he was going to say more, but couldn’t find the words. “Yeah, alright, thank you,” and just before he could turn to join his friends for breakfast, 

 

“Harry?” She asks, looking at him for conformation she got his name right and continuing only when Harry nods. “You don’t have to hesitate to ask for anything, ok? I’m here to help you.” And she says it in a way that makes Harry feel guilty for even asking, which. Defeats the purpose, really. 

 

“Right, of course. Thank you.” And he’s hurrying off because he doesn’t know how to thank her properly. 

 

//

 

“We should go canoeing,” Niall suggests through a bite of toast and Harry wants him to choke on his food. Not really, but. Really.

 

“No.” Harry says shortly, taking a haste sip of his hot tea and turning back to read a english copy of the local newspaper provided in the small, warm bakery. “Why not?” He can hear Niall whine from across the dainty table, but he doesn’t look up.

 

“Maybe we should take a walk instead, Niall? Look around a little?” Zayn suggests because he’s the peacemaker and also the lazy one. So walking around a small village definitely beats canoeing. 

 

“We did not come all the way to Switzerland to ‘walk around’! You are not going to call yourself my friend and still have the option to ‘walk around.’” 

 

“Yes, but we did come to Wengen to relax a bit, didn’t we Niall?” Harry asks finally, folding the newspaper.

 

“Canoeing _is_ relaxing,” He looks like he’s going to say more but Harry shoots him a look that says ‘stay quiet to live, or die a painful death’ which is pretty stupid because Harry apologizes to dogs if he accidentally, nearly steps on them. He wouldn’t be able to take the life of a _mosquito_ and not say sorry for it.  

 

Either way, Niall only glares back because that is proper procedure. They’ve survived five years of solid friendship following this procedure. 

 

“Fine.” Niall finally snaps, “We’ll go for a walk.” 

 

Harry only sighs because that sounds better than canoeing. Zayn though, Zayn swallows more tea and grins at his friends. 

 

//

 

“I’m pretty sure we’ve passed this shop guys,” Harry calls from behind Niall and Zayn because he really needs to work out. They’re beside some ski shop or something and it’s got no name, but Harry’s pretty sure he’s seen it at least three times in the past two hours. _Two hours_. Who’s idea was it to go for a walk in the first place?

 

It’s a lovely town, really. Harry’s seen a couple churches and a few local schools and everything is calm and tranquil, the lack of traffic makes it easy to breath; makes it easier to hear the sound of their feet as the walk in circles. 

 

“Really?” Zayn mutters, slowing down and letting Harry catch up, “We’ve been walking for quite some time now, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’ve already made a couple rounds of the place.” It really isn’t hard to figure out. They’ve actually passed the cable car station a few times too, and that was the obvious sign that they really weren’t getting anywhere. Or that they weren’t really going to be able to go anywhere. 

 

“Which is exactly why we should’ve gone canoeing!” Niall says and Harry’s close to shoving him down the mountain.

 

“Maybe we should’ve just stayed back in the lodge to watch Niall try and chat up the receptionist,” Harry snaps back and Niall nudges him with his shoulder. Perfect communication between the two. 

 

“Shut up Harry, no one listens to you.” Niall tries to glare, buts its really not working. 

 

“Oh? Aren’t you the one that suggested canoeing?” Harry raises and eyebrow and Niall just squints at him. “And are we canoeing? No. See? So ha. No one listens to _you._ ”

 

“Oh my god, you two are equivalent to five year olds,” Zayn groans and only then Harry notices that Zayn’s walked ahead. He doesn’t understand why Zayn comments because he knows for a fact that Zayn’s gotten used to his and Niall’s behavior. Especially with each other. 

 

“Harry started it.” Niall snickers and Zayn groans again. 

 

“Did _not_ ,” Harry whines, “That’s ridiculous, I didn’t even suggest we go for a walk.”

 

“You would’ve suggested a nap, shut up.” Niall snickers again, and this time, Harry nudges him, only harder so that Niall loses his balance but doesn’t quite fall; cursing quietly under his breath.

 

“Stop telling me to shut up. You shut up.” Harry says before he skips ahead to join Zayn and he can hear Niall curse at him which only makes him laugh.

 

“Can you both shut up? We need to find a way back, it’s nearly lunch-” Zayn starts, walking a little faster towards a familiar looking path, which. Which is a bit stupid because already, everything’s starting to feel a little familiar in Wengen. It’s hard for it not to be when everything can just fit in the palm of someone’s hand. 

 

“So lets go have lunch,” Niall says, catching up and standing on the other side of Zayn. “Why do we have to go back?” Niall frowns.

 

“Yeah, lets eat.” Harry encourages and Zayn shoot him a look. It only takes five seconds for Zayn to squeeze his eyes and mutter out a short “Fine,” before they’re heading towards some restaurant Niall’s researched that apparently serves really good homemade food.

 

//

 

“So this is called...” Harry starts as the waiter sets a electric table-top grill on their table and says a quirky “En guete!”  

 

“ _Raclette_ ,” Zayn answers from where he’s sitting beside Harry, “It’s both a cheese and a dish.” His voice is undeniably happy, almost proud.

 

“They traditionally melt the cheese in front of a fire and serve the melted cheese with potatoes, gherkins and dried meat,” Niall adds distractedly, taking a sip of his warm tea because apparently, you should drink warm drinks of special wine when eating raclette because other drinks could harden the cheese and cause indigestion. The only thing Harry questions is how Zayn know’s that. But then he remembers Zayn was actually very persistent about coming to Wengen, so it wasn’t a surprise Zayn knew so much about they’re food. Plus, it was also pointed out in the menu, so. 

 

“Ok. Great.” Harry says, not very convinced, but it’s cheese, so what can go wrong?  


He’s right, for most of the part. The melted cheese tastes nutty, kind of acidic, but not the point where it hurts. And the plain taste of small potatoes evens it out, so it works. Halfway through though, his throat began to burn from the saltiness of the meat, and so he swallowed his tea and sat back, fingers curling around the small cup. 

 

The restaurant was dim and fairly empty; dark, oaky chairs and white walls, small lamps around the corners to light up the room like little flickers of a bulb.

 

“Grüezi,” their waiter comes back with a kettle, “would anyone like more tea?” he asked, face soft in the muted lighting. The tea is actually very strong and Harry really shouldn’t have too much because it would effect his sleeping patterns, but really, it’s summer, so fuck sleeping patterns. 

 

“Yes please.” Harry says, extending his cup and letting him refill it.

 

“We should, and I actually mean it this time, go to the ski lodge tomorrow.” Niall says suddenly.

 

“Ski lodge?” Harry asks, voice low with the mood of the room. 

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s one near the Sports Centre, right?” Niall says to the waiter, extending his own cup.

 

“Correct, it’s a little higher up and you’ll have to walk there.” He nods, “but I do recommend you go; it’s a wonderful experience, and they serve lovely Kanelbulle in the lodge bakery.” Harry only frowns and Zayn whispers “it means cinnamon rolls” into his ear. 

 

“So....we’re going to be skiing tomorrow?” Harry asks reluctantly, nervous already because this was what he was trying to avoid the most. 

 

“I mean, If we end up going, then yeah, I guess we could be.” Niall replies distractedly, frowning into his cup and Harry’s guesses it’s probably because the tea isn’t sweet enough, so he pushes the little container of sugar cubes to him. 

 

“But, like, you guys _know_ I have a fear of heights, so maybe I could-” Harry starts, nerves balling at his stomach like the tug of a string and Harry’s thinking of the many different ways he can escape before the bell above the door in the restaurant jingles and someone walks in. 

 

“Aaron!” Harry turns to see a man– boy, about their age, walk in, talking loud and comfortable with a boisterous smile on. He was rather broad, in a tight black shirt and jeans loose on his hips on and Harry turned to face his friends in confusion. 

 

“Liam-” the waiter- Aaron - starts, waving a hand and ushering him into what must be the kitchen because Aaron brings all the food from there. “Es duet mr leid,” Aaron starts, smile sheepish, “I apologize. My friend- Liam- he’s used to the place being empty, so he’s quite, um, comfortable here.” He gets out and Zayn only shakes his head softly, smile present. 

 

“ ‘S not a problem,” Zayn shakes off, “The problem though, is the fact that Harry,” he looks at Harry pointedly, “doesn’t want to go skiing.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to go-” Harry starts, defensive, “It’s just that I think it’ll be best if I...stay back at the lodge and-”

 

“Nope.” Niall states, turning to Aaron who still stands by the table, awkwardly moving from the heels of his feet to his toes, as if unsure if he should stay or leave. “Could we get the bill, please?” he asks, ignoring Harry, who looks troubled.

 

“Guys, I can’t- _you_ go to the ski lodge,” he tries, voice panicked, as if trying to convince a fixed statue to change its form. 

 

“How about you all go the ski lodge?” someone says from behind Harry’s line of sight, and when he turns to look back, he see’s its the boy - Liam - from earlier. He frowns at Liam’s intrusion and wonders if he should prepare a punch for his face. But. That’s a little...harsh. He hasn’t really done anything. Yet.

 

“Grüezi,” He smiles, coming over to their table and smiling at all of them, but Harry can see the way his eyes follow the arch of Zayn’s nose and gaze past his pretty face, and Harry’s now wondering if he really should punch the guy. “I heisse Liam,” another quick glance and Zayn before he smiles at all of them. “My names Liam, and you should definitely go to the ski lodge.” 

 

Ok. Why? Who are you?

 

“And you say this because?” Zayn says and it turns out he’s got other alternatives on how to approach a stranger. Whereas Harry’s weighing how much trouble he’d get into if he punched him, Zayn’s got a little smirk quirking at the corner of his mouth. Ok Zayn. 

 

“Because the ski resort’s got some of the nicest space, land, instructors and staff members in all of Switzerland,” Wow, Harry thinks, hold on there big guy, thats some crazy impressive shit. Nice. Harry’s a little hesitant when it comes to meeting new people. He smiles either way though. 

“Oh?” Zayn asks and Harry should give him a crash course on how to deal with strangers. Give him tips like, ‘ask who the fuck he is’ and ‘don’t converse before you question.‘ Basic things, really. He watches Niall look between Zayn and Liam, then glances at Harry. But he’s got this glint in his eyes that Harry is 110(000000000)% sure he’s not replicating. 

 

“Yeah,” Liam grins and now his full attention is on Zayn. Very subtle, Harry notes, double nice. “I happen to be one of them.” Liam says before, “Staff members I mean; I happen to be one of the staff members.” Harry can literally see Liam curse inside his head for sounding like an idiot. At least he’s not ignorant. 

 

“Are you? Maybe we will drop by at the ski lodge,” Zayn grinned, “to ski and stuff. I hear they make good Kanelbulle in the bakery.” And Liam’s face brightened up like the first star in the sky.

 

“Ok. Yeah, um, ok. You should come, definitely,” and then turning and recognizing Harry and Niall, “you should all come.” Harry knows that he would really prefer to see Zayn there then them. 

 

“Yeah, we’ll think about it,” Niall grinned and Harry felt a tight feeling in his stomach telling him Niall was making a definite promise. 

 

“Alright. Ok. Um, Ich wünsch Dir e schöne Daag,” Liam grinned, “Have a nice day.” 

 

//

 

The next morning, Harry’s the one having trouble waking up and it isn’t because he’s tired, rather scared that his friends would drag him to some ski lodge and lead him to his death. 

 

Harry might have a slight fear of heights, it wasn’t a problem or anything, really. He just wanted to stay as far away from skiing as possible, considering all the possibilities.  

 

He lays in bed long after he’d actually woken up, and pulled the covers over his head to curl into a ball. Zayn and Niall came in after an hour, and Zayn was persistent about getting his revenge for last morning. 

 

“Get the fuck up, Styles,” he hears as the bedroom door swings open and he can hear the loud voices his friends have carry throughout the room.   
  
“Yeah, you lazy, fat arse,” he can make out Niall’s voice ring close to his right side, and he lays as stiff as possible, hoping his friends would have mercy on him, “up! Let’s not waste daylight, lets go, go, _go_.” _Jesus_ ; did Niall swallow a liter of Redbull this morning? 

 

Harry decides to play his cards and stays quiet, before, “I still have the bucket from yesterday, y’know? I’m not afraid to use it, don’t underestimate me,” Zayn threatens, nudging at Harry’s left side, making him grunt out. “Go away, shitheads. Let me _sleep_.” 

 

“Harry,” Niall whines, dropping the tough act, “get up, I wanna go skiing, and so does Zayn.” 

 

“Does he wanna go skiing, or visit that guy from the restaurant yesterday?” Harry snorts, plopping his head out of the covers to squint menacingly at both of his friends; Zayn’s blushing and Niall looks delighted. 

 

“Probably the latter,” Niall grins, turning to face Zayn who isn’t looking at either of them, “but either way, we need to get a move on if we want to get a early start on the skiing, so get up Harry. I’m giving you another five minuets.” Niall says shortly before dragging Zayn out of the room, leaving Harry groaning after him. 

 

 

 

By the time Harry gets out of bed, it’s well past five minuets and Zayn and Niall are waiting for him in the kitchen. Harry’s still in his pajama’s. 

 

“Harry, what the fuck?” Is what he gets from Zayn while Niall pretends to fall to the floor in agony. Harry only shrugs lamely, turning the kettle on and reaching for a mug to make some tea. 

 

“I wanted to go for a walk, you guys go ahead to the ski lodge.” Harry starts and he can see both Niall and Zayn opening their mouthes to protest, so he acts fast, “Plus, if you wait for me any longer, the lodge may, um, fill up with too many guests? And that Liam guy’s probably waiting for you Zayn, and he definitely won’t notice that I’m not there. So. Both of go today,” Harry glances at both of them before turning back to his kettle, “and I’ll join you some other day.” 

 

“Harry,” Zayn sighs, before letting out a small, fond smile, “we’ll see you late, ok?” Harry grins, chirping a bright “Love you!”as Niall gets up to move past him, ruffling his curls on the way and Zayn pecks his head like he’s a child. He really is between the three of them. 

 

//

 

“Eleanor,” Harry calls, pressing on the bell in the front counter, watching her peak her head out from the door that says ‘staff only’. “Yessss?” she says, drawing out the ‘s’ and walking up to the front desk to take a seat. 

 

“I want to go for a walk.” Harry deadpans and he can see Eleanor look at him amusedly, crossing her arms across her chest.

 

“Didn’t you do that yesterday?” she asks, and Harry’s about to answer before she quirks again. “Did you really skip the opportunity to go to Wengen’s best ski lodge and ski learning centre to go for a walk?” 

 

“No,” Harry pouts, “I skipped the opportunity to go to Wengen’s best ski lodge and ski learning centre to go for a walk-” he looks pointedly at Eleanor, “Near the outskirts of town.” He says it like he’s just proved an important point. Eleanor only raises as eyebrow.

 

“On the outskirts of town?”

 

“Yeah, like,yesterday we just walked around the town for two hours like a group of knobs, but today- today, I was thinking I could for a hike?” He’s grinning like a child, excited. “But like a short hike- not even a hike, really, I just wanted to see the landscapes a little more-”

 

“You know you probably would’ve gotten one of the best views from the ski lodge?” Eleanor interrupts and Harry wants to reach over and yell “Why is everyone so obsessed with ski lodges and skiing?” 

 

“Eleanor. Please.” Harry groans. “Just give me a map around the town, please?” 

Eleanor only looks at him for a second before sighing and reaching over for one of those cheap, foldable maps in the front desk. “Fine. Have fun-” and Harry just smiles wide and makes his way for the door, before he hears Eleanor call after him, “don’t fall of the edge and come back safe”

 

//

 

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, looking around the place he’s standing; larger than life mountains that seem to swallow the scenario and the ground dry and crumbly under his feet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

 

Harry’s lost. 

 

Ok, so he’s not _really_ lost, more very, _very_ , lost. But, it’s ok. He’s got it under control. Mostly. 

 

He just needs to stop panicking, but he’ll be fine. 

 

“Ok” He mutters to himself, taking a breath and closing his eyes. He’s managed to make it far, far away from the heart of Wengen, the town area that the three of them had been loitering the day before, and was now somewhere completely unknown. He remembers taking a few turns and climbing some slanted ground, nothing too difficult, but now he’s on some trail, it looks like it’s for biking, and the view is honestly amazing; the mountains look even prettier at day with the sun brightening the green and the snow looking white and clean on the tips and it’s honestly beautiful....but he’s fucking lost. 

 

Calm down, it’s ok, you’re not going to die, he tells himself. Don’t panic, don’t fret, you’ll be fine, he tells himself. You’re fucking screwed, he believes. 

 

He’s got two choices, really. To either walk ahead and hope that it really is a bike trail he’s walking on and that it would lead to civilization. Or he could turn back. But the problem with that is that going back could also lead him to a complete different route, so he’s thinking he should just love ahead. 

 

So he does. 

 

He’s been walking for at least an hour, and already he feels his light breakfast of fresh fruits and a danish is burning off and he starts to feel hungry. The further he walks, the more he breathes the cold, clear air and he’s getting real tired of the damn mountains. More than anything though, he wishes Niall and Zayn were here. He thinks of how Niall would tell him what every mountain was called and he thinks of how Zayn would probably carry his portable canvas and paint set and stop every five minuets to make a sketch.

 

He’s an idiot, really. Who goes for a random hike at a completely new town with no sense of direction? Harry, that’s who. And as he walks, he’s trying his best not to cry because he’s so lost, and he’s got no idea were he is and he’s just randomly walking and there’s not a single person in sight and he’s so. Fucking. Screwed. The worst part though, is that when he does get back to the lodge, Niall and Zayn would probably be all up his arse. And then he’d definitely have to go skiing. 

 

He walks until the trail ends and then- and then he’s thinks, I’m really, really fucked, aren’t I? and there’s nothing he can really do but groan into his sweaty hands and trudge forward on the summer grass. 

 

He looks around before dropping his gaze to the ground, and walks sullenly onward, the walk back seeming to tiring and confusing. It’s quiet, calm and steady, and Harry can feel the dry beat of the ground, the hollow ambience around the mountain, and he can feel the beauty of this place; of this wonderful nature, but he’s too fucking mad and too fucking lost to even care. And thats. Well, that’s quite sad. But. What can he do? 

 

It’s fairly peaceful, to the point were Harry feels like he’s the only person alive in the world, till he can hear the distinct sound of wood chopping and feet shuffling and _oh_. Oh, there’s someone _here_. There’s someone near by. And it only takes Harry a second to let relief wash down his veins till he’s practically running.

 

There’s a man, with his back to Harry, a few hundred meters from where Harry was walking, working beside some unfinished thing that could be a hut, but was missing some very vital parts, like walls. Harry can see an axe by his side as he heaves long planks of wood and carves the sides, stopping once to wipe his forehead with his forearm and Harry could kiss him for being there; for being alive. 

 

Harry’s about to say something along the lines of “where have you been these past miles?” or “where have you been all my life?” but he’s pretty sure Rihanna’s music would freak him out, so he’s about to say “excuse me, do you happen to know the way back to the commercial central of the village?” before the man himself is turning around, probably sensing Harry’s presence and _oh_. Oh _no_. 

 

He’s fairly, stupidly, very gorgeous and Harry’s fairly, stupidly, very awkward. And fuck, why is it whenever Harry comes across attractive people, he becomes a sort of gaping statue that stares at their beauty till they literally have to walk away? 

 

“Um,” the man starts. Harry can see the way his eyes furrow in confusion and Harry’s still mute. “Sali?” That means hello, right? Harry’s pretty sure that mean’s hello, but he’s sort of distracted by the the man’s sharp eyes and his scruffy jaw and his hair, long and pushed back. And his tattooed arm. And his bloody face, how is he real? 

 

“Exgüüsi? Kasch Du Schwitzerdütsch reede?” the man says, and Harry probably looks like the biggest idiot, just standing there, but he can’t help it. Not when his voice sounds like running water and vintage turntables on a summer evening. And Harry remembers that rule he has about talking to strangers. But. Harry’s got to get back home and it looks like this man is from around here, so he’s going to have to say something. Even if he could go all day staring at his face. 

 

“Uh, hi, um,” Harry starts, trying to remember any of the words from that phrase book Niall had sent him before the trip, but the only thing he can remember is _Kanelbulle_ and _that_ means cinnamon rolls, so he’s going to have to pray the guy understands english. “Do you- can you speak english?” 

 

He can see the man blinking at him before smiling a smirk, which. Ok. It’s cute, but Harry could do without it. “Yes, I can.” His english sounds even hotter than his swiss-german and if Harry wasn’t so worried about finding his way back and not being lost, he would definitely record the man’s voice saying his name a hundred times. 

They stand in silence for close to a minute and Harry can see the way the man’s smirk increases in arrogance as if he knows how flustered Harry’s getting over him and Harry can’t have that, so he decides to say something.

 

“Nice, um, hut?” Harry says as confidently as possible, which is not very at all. 

 

“Thank you, I guess,” he says, “It doesn’t look very structured yet, but it’s still coming together.” He he says with a frown, looking back at the small, wooden..thing. Harry’s sure he’s speaking more to himself than anyone. “May I ask what you’re doing here?” he asks, turning back to face Harry.

 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Only if I can ask the same.”

 

“You can.”

 

“Well then, so can you.” Harry’s being stubborn, he knows he should just get to the point and ask for directions but just the way this man’s been looking at him, as if he’s so sure and as if he just knows Harry’s a foreigner; it makes Harry want to frown because that’s the feeling he’s been wanting to avoid this entire trip.

 

The man sighs, as if he’s talking to a child, which, considering it’s Harry, isn’t far off. “Alright, then what are you doing here?” It’s not exactly rude, but it’s not exactly friendly either. So.

 

“I’m talking to you,” Harry nearly glares at the way the man crosses his arms over his chest and raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “What are _you_ doing here?”

 

He only smirks again, tilting his head so that his hair falls to the side which Harry’s definitely not finding attractive anymore. “The same as you, talking to a stranger.” 

 

When Harry doesn’t say anything else, unsure of how to snap at him in a way that wouldn’t seem too rude, because they have only just met, but also not something that would make the guy feel even more confident than he already looked, the man speaks up again. “Sorry for being so frank, but are you lost?” and Harry’s sure he doesn’t mean it in a rude way, but Harry’s always been pretty prideful, even when it comes to attractive Swiss men with scruffy jaws, so just that line caprices Harry’s entire physique from ‘flustered, star-eyed boy’ to ‘no you are not better than me, sit your arse down.’ 

 

“No.” He nearly snaps because he’s an idiot and he doesn’t want to see the man’s smirk because though its hot, its also _infuriating_. “I’m not lost.” 

 

“Ok,” the man nods before angling his foot back to the hut and nearly turning back to face it, “good for you then, enjoy your walk.” And ok. Harry’s actually not not lost, so it takes all of him to swallow his pride and call out again. “But, It would help me a lot if you could give me directions back to the village central.” 

 

He turns back around and Harry wishes he didn’t because he’s got this irritating, conceited, super annoying smug smile on, as if he has a point and it has been proven, and Harry wants to slap him. Wow. 

 

“So,” he starts and Harry’s preparing for the worst, “you’re not lost, but you’re still in need of directions?”

 

“Seeking for directions does not give you the right to assume I’m lost.” Harry snaps, full on, mouth curling around every word like venom and Harry can’t comprehend on how fast he changes from thinking ‘hot guy, must act cool’ to ‘who does he think he is?’

 

“So you’re saying you aren’t? Lost, that is?” and Harry’s had enough. He’s not going to let some arrogant man with an axe ruin his day (not that it wasn’t ruined before, but.) So, he just rolls his eyes and makes a big show of sighing and turning around slowly. 

 

“You know what? I’m actually fine, perfectly fine, sorry to’ve disturbed, I’ll be on my way.” It’s overly dramatic and Harry hopes he feels guilty, but he probably doesn’t because just a second after Harry storms back to the path he was walking on and starts to move ahead, grumbling about the ‘stupid, useless bastard’ under his breath, the man calls out again, voice so obviously humored. “If you’re heading for central, I would love to inform you that you’re going the wrong way.” And of course. Of course he is. Harry looks up to glare at him as best as he can through his flushed face and the man smirks humorously, pointing his thumb to a stoned path across from where Harry was walking. 

 

Harry just turns his nose, pointedly makes no eye contact with him as he crosses over to the other path and heads back to town, the entire way back he thinks of all the snarky, smart things he could’ve said to slap that smirk right off his face, but he realizes too late that it wouldn’t’v mattered either way. Because the chances of Harry seeing him again were not too likely, even in a town as small as Wengen. 

 

When he makes it back, he’s half relieved, half annoyed, because though he _is_ back, the snarky man back by the useless hut and by the silvery grass and right by the overwhelming mountains, was right, right, right. 

 

//

 

He’s on his way back to the lodge, passing the cable car’s and the well structured houses he had memorized just the day before, when he realizes that he’d never gotten the chance to buy tea for the apartment, and considering they were going to be at Wengen for the next two weeks, Harry realized it was very, very important for him to buy the tea, so, instead of going straight for the lodge, he goes to the mini mart Eleanor had told him to go to. It doesn’t take much to find it; it sits, like it belongs, in the middle of a restaurant that seems to serve very good meat. 

 

It looks like a cottage from the outside, lovely fuchsia plants hung by the door and pretty signs advertising what looked like fresh fruits. The second Harry opens the door, a light jingle rang across the shop and it smelled of bread and cardboard. Harry looks around and he can see shelves carrying foreign instant noodles and packet sugar and pressed on either side of the store is fresh bread. 

 

“Guete Daag,” he hears someone say and he turns to face a man that looks to be in his late 60’s. He’s smiling warmly at Harry, and it makes Harry feel guilty for not knowing the correct way to respond. 

 

“Grüezi, um, I was looking for some tea bags? And maybe some milk?” He asks, but by the way the man tilted his head in confusion let Harry know that he was going to have some trouble. 

 

“ Tee? Teebüteli?” he asks, starting to move towards the back and Harry just follows along till he was face to face with the milk and packet drinks isle and he nods, grinning wildly at the man. 

 

“Tea bags, yes, thank you-” he starts before remembering, “Messi.” The man only smiles before he heads back to the front and lets Harry decide on what tea he wants.

 

(And maybe also on what biscuits, but that only because Niall’s digestives’d run out.)

 

//

 

Once he arrives at the lodge, he see’s that Niall and Zayn haven’t come back yet, and he’s really not in the mood to go out and get lost and meet rude strangers, so after contemplating on wether or not he should make himself a sandwich from the bread and jam he’d purchased, he heads down to the receptionist to talk to the only other person he know’s in this village.

 

“Eleanor!” he greets once he see’s her, and she looks up to him with a raised eyebrow, as if she’d already grown used to Harry’s childish personality. 

 

“Yes?” she asks and Harry rests his elbows on the front desk, resting his head on his palms, “When’s your shift gonna end?” he asks, watching her half smile at him. 

 

“My next break is in a couple hours, I finished my lunch break just now, why?” she asks, shifting through her laptop, glancing at Harry as he still rested across the desk. 

 

“I’m bored.” Harry huffs.

 

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. At least you’re not stuck behind some counter.” Eleanor frowns while she looks down at the desk as if it’d made a mistake. “The most exciting part of my day is handing out key cards to strangers and hearing about their day.” Eleanor pouts, and Harry notes that she isn’t only ever happy. Huh. So she _is_ human. 

 

“But that’s nice. Listening to them talk, I mean.” Harry mutters, playing with a string bracelet tied around his wrist, flicking the thin rope. 

 

“True. But not as nice as being able to go out with them. Especially to high class ski resorts.” She says while raising a knowing eyebrow at him and Harry only grunts in response, flipping over so that his back is half draped over the counter and he’s really glad there’s no one around to see this because he’s pretty sure he looks like a floppy seal. Or like he’s filming a scene for some weird porno or something. 

 

“Leave me alone, I had a bad day.” Harry whines, and he can feel Eleanor looking at him, so he turns to face her and she’s got a really fond smile on. 

 

“Maybe you would’ve had a great day-”

 

“If you say ski resort one more time, I will personally send Niall here late, late at night to discuss Swedish folk tales with you.” Eleanor pretends to look mortified as she dramatically throws a hand over her mouth.

 

“No,” she gasps, “you wouldn’t.” Harry only grins in response; pleased.

 

“I _so_ would.” He says surely, before he gets off the desk and starts to walk towards the bakery. “Now I’m going to tell you about my bad day. Do you want coffee or hot cocoa while you listen?” 

He can hear Eleanor mutter something under her breath before she calls out, “Kaffi, please.”

 

 

 

 

“Wait, ok, so describe to me what he looks like again.” Eleanor says after Harry’s done rambling about his day. The only thing Harry guesses Eleanor’s actually listened to was the part where he describes the man by the hut and he’s guessing it’s because she can probably recognize him, if given the correct physical attributes.

 

Harry huffs before he answers. “Why?”

 

“Harry,” Eleanor starts, as she looks at him. He’s sitting beside her behind the desk because he’d gotten coffee for her, and he’d been swirling around on the twirly chair for most of the time. “Wengen has approximately a little over a thousand year-round residents. I’m pretty darn sure I can figure out who he is. Plus, you say he looked about a few years older than you? He might’ve gone to school with me. _I’m_ a few years older than you.”

 

“Really?” Harry snickers and Eleanor rolls her eyes. 

 

“Not the point, Harry,” she sighs while Harry mutters a quiet ‘oldie’ under his breath. 

 

“Ok, well, he was-” Harry starts, but stops because how does he say this? He was absolutely stunning, before he opened his mouth? “He was like, like, he was really- fucking hot.” Harry finishes as honestly as possible. “He was really fucking hot.”

 

“Till he was not?” Eleanor offers with a shrug, trying her best to seem sympathetic without laughing because Harry looked really, really, really sad over the fact that he was hot. 

 

“Yeah,” Harry groans. “He was hot till he was not.” He shakes it off, and perks up again, takes a sip of his hot cocoa and bites off a chunk of the sweet and gooey  Prinsesstårta, aka princess cake, he bought from the bakery. 

 

“But. He basically had, like, really nice eyes? Blue from what I could see.” Harry starts as he thinks of the mans face. The only thing he can see, or seem to remember though, is that damn smirk. The one that put him off at the start. “He had like, fairly long hair. Almost as long as mine, except straight, I think. And he had a scruff. A really sexy scruff.” Harry says, almost sadly and Eleanor frowns for a moment, before she perks up and faces Harry. “Was he, like, strong and stuff?”

 

“What kind of a question is that?” Harry frowns at her and she just rolls her eyes. “Like, was he working on something? Working really hard on something?” When Harry only frowns back at her, she asks, words mixed with a sigh, “did he have a few tattoos on his arms?”

 

“Uh yeah, of a bird or something. And I told you, he was working on building a shack or something.”

 

“Oh!” Eleanor nearly yells. “Oh, oh, ohhh. I know him, I know him!” and that catches Harry’s attention too, because really? Did she, really?

 

“Who?”

 

“He’s probably Louis Tomlinson.” _Louis Tomlinson_. Fuck. Even his name is hot. _Louis Tomlinson_. 

 

“Again, who?” Harry asks, still frowning.

 

“The guy you met today, he’s probably, most likely Louis Tomlinson.” Eleanor says and like, that’s cool and all, but who the hell is Louis Tomlinson?

 

“Ok. And who is _he_?” Harry asks and he can see Eleanor’s enjoying this, from the way she purses her lips and pretends to go back to work. 

 

“I’m sorry Harry, but I really should get to work.” She says, facing her laptop though Harry can still see her smile. A wicked, knowing smile that Harry frowns upon. 

 

“Eleanor.” Harry starts, disbelievingly. “I bought you coffee, _Eleanor_.”

 

“And I told you about Louis Tomlinson, _Harry_.” Eleanor says. 

 

“You didn’t tell me anything.” Harry wails, resting his head on the desk. It smelled of oak. 

 

“Maybe thats because I think you should find out more about him yourself.” She says and Harry snorts.

 

“I don’t want to find shit about him. I told, he’s a fucking bastard.” Harry says coldly, getting up and making his way back up to his room, but before he manages to go a floor up, he hears Eleanor call after him. “I can tell you this though, Harry. Louis- he’s not a bad person- he’s not a bastard, ok? If you do end up running into him again- he’s not a bastard.” and the way she says it, the way she looks at Harry completely in the eyes is what makes Harry nod slowly before he heads back upstairs to eat a biscuit. 

 

//

 

Niall and Zayn come back with pictures. 

 

Harry’s glad they come back at all, considering how late it had gotten once they’d arrive. But, they brought dinner, so Harry only pouted at them for a minute. 

 

Niall goes on about how beautiful and lovely and gorgeous the snow and the place was and Zayn goes on about how beautiful and lovely and gorgeous Liam was and it turns out they aren’t really strangers anymore because Zayn’s got Liam’s phone number saved for if they ever want to “come back to the lodge for another go at skiing” but Niall just grins and says “or for another go at snogging at the changing rooms.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. You kissed him?” Harry gasped, sitting crossed legged on the carpeted floor in the living room, rocking back and forth on his bum, while Niall lay across the couch and Zayn sat by the kitchen counter, currently glaring at Niall.

 

“No, I didn’t.” Zayn mutters, though a blush appears at the apples of his cheek.

 

“But he so wanted to, oh my god, you should’ve seen them, Harry. It was like they’d known and dated each other for years, it was _so_ embarrassing.” 

 

“Shut up Niall. You aren’t one to talk. Harry, he was eyeing up one of the instructors like some animal, _that_ was embarrassing.” 

 

“Hey,” Niall whines, “Barbara said she liked my technique.” 

 

“Yeah.” Zayn grins, “you falling technique.” At which Harry giggles because he really doesn’t have a hard time believing that. 

 

“You think you’re being funny, Malik.” Niall deadpans but Harry can see he’s fighting off a smile, “But you’re not. You really are not.”

 

“Neither were any of the crap jokes you were telling poor Barbara the entire day.” And Harry laughs out loud at that one because he really doesn’t have a hard time believing that. Considering it was Niall, it really didn’t surprise him at all. 

 

“I hate you. I really, really hate you.” Niall says but the words are weightless. “Anyway, what did _you_ do today, Harry?” Niall shifts to look at him and Harry just shrugs.

 

“I went for a hike. I got lost. I met some rude guy building a shack. I bought us tea. I had a chat with El.” Harry smiles, “Nothing much.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Zayn says, much like Harry earlier. “You met somebody.”

 

“Don’t say it like that, Zee. It wasn’t lovely and cute and romantic like you have it. He was just some guy who thought I was lost-”

 

“But weren’t you actually lost?” Niall frowns.

 

“Well, yes, but he was smirking and being a complete douche, so I didn’t want him to think I was lost.” Harry tries to explain, but even to him he sounds childish, “But Eleanor thinks she knows who he is, based on what he looked like.”

 

“So he...riled you up? Pissed you off or something?” Zayn frowns, not quite getting it and Harry doesn’t blame him. He seems to’v overreacted. 

 

“Well. Yes. But, like, no? He was just really... I don’t know, ok? He was hot till he was not. Basically. In Eleanor’s words.” Harry says glumly and he can feel Zayn and Niall trying not to laugh. 

 

“No prince charming then?”

 

“Not yet, no,” Harry swallows, “I’m Harry-Hight-Standards-Styles, remember? I’m not gonna find anyone that easily.” He shrugs again, his voice sounded hollow and falsely nonchalant and he can see that makes both Niall and Zayn frown again, as if worried what really happened when nothing really happened at all, before he gets up to walk over to the plastic bag in the kitchen. “But I did buy us tea and biscuits. D’know what they call tea bags here in Wengen?” 

 

He can see that the two of them know he’s trying to change the subject, but Zayn plays along, frown turning into a small smile. “What?”

 

“ Teebüteli.” Harry grins, taking the box out, along with the creamer and some sugar. “Zayn, you want some?” he asks because Niall gets constipation if he drinks tea or coffee at night. 

 

“Yes please,” he hears Zayn call, and so he makes them a large mug full to share. They pass the cup around, to share the warmth that radiates off of the glass as they watch a black and white movie on the television and can hear Niall sing loudly in the shower in a way he would’ve if he were back in Harry’s flat in London, visiting for the weekend. Harry smiles softly behind the mug and Zayn’s laughing quietly beside him and this feels a lot like family.

 

And later, once he’s brushed his teeth and showered at the bathroom by his room, he goes to look by the curtain once again. It still looks scary; the mountains still stand like towering roadblocks, big and intimidating, making everything around it, including Harry, look and seem insignificant. And the sky still looks like a plethora of rained stars and dark, dark blue. The only difference though, is that he feels like he isn’t the only staring up at it; at the sky and then at the landscape before him; he realizes that there could be hundreds, thousands of people staring up at the same sky, but witnessing it in a million different ways, and to think he see’s this beautiful, serene place as an example of his fears, as a sample of his confusion and loneliness, is what really brings the tears to his eyes as he trudges out of his room and to where Zayn and Niall were. 

 

Crawling under their covers in the middle, feeling Niall stir a little before he drapes and arm around Harry’s middle and hearing Zayn’s quiet breath fanning his ear before Zayn softly runs his hands through Harry’s ears and murmurs a soothing lullaby with no name to it because even though Harry hadn’t realized it, his tears were already flowing down, visible and warning.

 

//

 

 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes on a lot of walks. Zayn and Liam might be a thing. Louis looks good shirtless and Niall just wants to ski (and kiss the pretty ski instructor.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, I'm a little late, but the chapter's here !! Hi everybody!!
> 
> Ok, so first of all, I said I needed a beta in the previous chapter and two lovely, amazing, incredible people offered their services! They'r not just the editors of the story, I seem them as my partners. They've been giving me tons of valuable feedback and I'm honestly so, so, so grateful so can everybody please go give a large and welcoming virtual hug to [Mirjam](http://www.letthemkissyou.tumblr.com/) and [Hannah](http://www.unshipping.tumblr.com/)? They've beta'd this chapter and without them, I don't think I would've been able to publish it today without crying, ok, so thank you both so so so much, I love youuuu.
> 
> Moving on, I don't think the next chapter will be up by next week because I'm making some major plot changes and I sort of need time to write it, so hopefully you'll be patient enough to wait a little longer <3
> 
> I don't own anyone, anything, any place, any event. The plot is all fiction and is not true at allll. 
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy (once again, thank you to my wonderful, amazing, lovely, talented beta's!!) xx

(If silence could be seen, Harry thinks, there would be wavy lines circulating the atmosphere. He can, in a weird sort of way, see the silence right before him.)

Niallʼs persistent this morning, wonʼt let Harry get away again as he drags Harry out of bed and yells at him to get dressed because apparently heʼd promised the lovely instructor Barbara heʼd be there again to practice his Snow Ploughs. And then there was Zayn, who was not any less tenacious about getting Harry to the ski resort and he didnʼt even have to say anything for Harry to realize he just really wanted to see that Liam guy again. So. They manage to convince Harry to come and as they walk Harry begins to feel nauseous. 

Itʼs such a quiet town, Harry thinks. Simply so peaceful and natural that Harry almost forgets that London is completely different; with cars and noise and smoke stained skies. It was so hard to compare the two places, is the thing. Where one is the centre of activity and movement, the other stands like a constant rock that endures the heavy currents of the ever changing waves. And walking up and down the uneven grounds of Wengen, Harry tries to find a similitude between the two places, but he gives up the second he sees the ski resort. 

“Fucking hell,” Harry mutters under his breath, as he frowns up at the large structor that stands on the tip of a hilly patch of land. It's got wooden planks that make up the walls and its at least five times the size of their lodge. As they climb up closer, higher, Harry begins to see the white snow of the mountains that already have people dotting the area like little flecks of Oreo crumbs swimming in a glass of milk. 

“Itʼs nice, innit?” Niall grins, trudging ahead in winter boots, wearing only a single layer of sock because apparently, its warmer that way. He doesnʼt wait for Harry to answer as he leads them up to the entrance of the lodge, past the sign that advertises the name and much too fast for Harry to come up with some sorry excuse to run away. 

“Weʼre doing this. Weʼre really doing this. Weʼre going skiing. On slippery snow.” Harry mutters under his breath. “Weʼre going to die.” He more or less moans to himself, as he forgets Zaynʼs right beside him when he places a hand on Harryʼs shoulder. “Harry,” he mutters, a smile laced in his voice as Harry snaps his head to face Zayn. “You donʼt have to get on the slopes today.” He starts, “you could honestly just hang around the cafe or lounge room or something.” Harry bites his lips as he whispers back, “you sure Niall wouldnʼt mind?” 

“Oh please,” Zayn snorts. “Heʼll be too busy trying to charm Barbara. He wonʼt even realize if either of us die.” 

// 

Back in London, Harry would often spend Friday nights either at his flat or at the library or at a small, local bar for some drinks with Niall, Zayn and Nick. 

Nick. 

Now, Nick and Harry went back years. Years and years and years. Back when Harry was just learning to walk home from school and Nick was holding his hand on the way. Back when they sat by the front porch of Harryʼs grandmumʼs summer home and drank sweet lemonade and played truth or dare. 

They went back to the point where Nick knew Harry better than Harry knew himself and it wasnʼt a surprise to anyone when Nick was driving Harry to his first day of eleventh grade in his new, second hand car and was kissing Harry sweet and quick with a smile on his face against the hood. It really didnʼt surprise anyone at all. 

It didnʼt surprise anyone when Nick asked Harry to the formal, even though he was two years older and it didnʼt surprise Harry when he realized that fuck, Iʼm so in love with this guy. 

What did surprise everyone though, was on the last day of sixth form, when everyone was crying farewells and biding goodbyes, Harry and Nick stood by Nickʼs not so new, second hand car and were kissing for the last time. What did surprise everyone was when Harry came to meet his friends and family, by himself, with the largest smile on his face, eyes wet and happy because it was alright. It was alright. 

And the thing that Harry got the most out of that relationship with Nick, the four years it lasted, was that even after it ended, they were still two boys holding hands and drinking tea on a summer evening. They were still those two friends; well, as close as two exes can be, so never actually like before, but still so much better than strangers: Harry still had Nickʼs old sweaters, and Nick still had Harryʼs kisses. 

What Nick did leave behind though, was a very spoilt Harry. In terms of relationships. Heʼd gotten used to feeling like falling asleep in bed every time Nick hugged him and heʼd gotten used to having the familiar touches mapped and finding a home in Nick that no one else could possibly ever do. No one else could make Harry feel that wonderful and beautiful and strong and secure as Nick could and that was because Nick and Harry went back years; years and years and years. 

And it was next to impossible to find someone the same. 

// 

“Alright, so, um, Iʼll go and sign us up, you stay here and donʼt get lost...again.” Niall says distractedly, looking around for who Harry assumes is Barbara. Zaynʼs been no help, also fairly distracted and craning his neck every five seconds to look back at the front lobby. 

Harry sighs. “Haha,” he says just to humor Niall, “you two go ahead, Iʼll just sit here and read.” He isnʼt joking. Heʼs brought a old paper copy of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time and heʼs sat on a plush couch in a bakery thatʼs supposed to serve brilliant coffee and cinnamon buns. So. Better than skiing. And better than being lost. 

Zayn gets up to go and follows Niall to the front desk and out of the little cafe tucked into the corner of the lodge, hidden from much sight. Harryʼs already feeling lonely. At least thereʼs a woman working at the counter of the cafe, taking orders and making drinks. At least thereʼs a man near the front on his laptop, taking large sips from the white mug in front of him every other second. At least Harryʼs not alone. 

It reminds him of the blur of a classroom back in eight grade. The static coming from the windows that casted dull shadows when the curtains were hung down, lines illuminating the four blank walls of the room. It reminds him of the place because he remembers sitting in the back left corner by himself, while the teacher goes on about if or not Macbeth could be looked upon as a villain. It reminds Harry of the cafe because even back then, while he knew Nick was having lunch because the high schoolers had lunch after the middle schoolers, Harry had always stood in solitary. In the context of his classroom, he sat. But still in solitary. And here he was now. He knew his best mates were out in the snow, giddy smiles on their faces probably from their instructors rather than the activity, but he was still sat in a sofa, with people around but no one to talk to. The difference is though, heʼs got coffee and cinnamon buns to accompany him. And a book about the death of a neighborhood dog. 

After two hours, Harryʼs read up to page 119 and heʼs trying to get the bittersweet taste of a latte out of his mouth. He figures heʼs given his two friends enough time with their significant others, so he gets up, says a quiet thank you to the woman in behind the counter because her shift is still not over, though she looks half asleep, and makes his way into the ski lodge. 

It doesnʼt take much for Harry to find Niall because the second he steps outside, he can hear his laugh. He turns to face the sound and right there, in the midst of bloody children, sits Niall flat on his arse, face red as can be, turning to look at a gorgeous girl whose got her hair tucked into a beanie and is looking at Niall with the largest smile. Barbara. Harry can tell. 

“Niall,” he calls when heʼs close enough, walking on the snow with his boots on, trying not to slip. “Niall, how much longer?” he groans when Niall finally turns to him. 

“Harry!” he grins and he looks pretty bright and ecstatic for a guy whoʼd just made an idiot of himself in front of the gorgeous instructor, but judging from the way sheʼs laughing at him like heʼs a gem, Harry figures Niallʼs got the right to look bright and ecstatic. “This is Barbara, my instructor,” he says while he takes Harryʼs hand to get up, completely ignorant to what Harry had said before. Not that Harry minds, he quite likes seeing his friend so alive. 

“Hi,” she greets, her eyes are large and blue and sheʼs got pearly whites to match her pretty smile. Harry smiles back. “Hello, itʼs nice to meet you, Iʼm Harry.” 

“Fröit mi,” she grins and Niall gets excited. “That means ʻpleased to meet you,ʼ right? Iʼm right, arenʼt I?” Heʼs smiling so big that even Barbara canʼt help but indulge him. 

“Yes, yes you are. I see youʼve been practicing on your speaking,” her smile turns into a small smirk, “now if you would only practice on being able to stay upright on your ski.” 

“Hey,” Niall whines and Harry thinks itʼs cute, he does, but heʼs also pretty insistent about getting back to the lodge for lunch or something. “Niall, dʼyou think we can get Zayn and start to head back? Itʼs nearing lunch, and you guys must be hungry.” He figures brining up the topic of food might influence them to go back. 

“Zayn went back inside about a half hour ago, said something about looking through equipment. Really just to visit Liam cause his shift isnʼt till a little later,” Niall grins, slowly bending down to remove his feet from the heel bindings. “You go ahead inside, Iʼll be there in a second.” He mutters and Harry doesnʼt argue as he leaves them to say goodbye. He already felt a bit guilty for it already. 

“Harry, hey,” Zayn says to him the second he sees him walk into the room. Heʼs stood inside the lodge shop that sold ski equipment and surprisingly, he was standing there alone. “Whatʼre you doing here?” 

“Uh, I came to get you actually. I thought maybe we could go back-” 

“Hereʼs the alpine racing ski I was telling you about. Itʼs like, really light- oh, hey!” someone interrupts and when Harry turns around, heʼs honestly not even the slightest bit surprised to see that boy - Liam standing there, a thin ski at hand, wearing the lodge shirt with knee length shorts, smiling wide. 

“Hi,” Harry says a little reluctantly. 

“Iʼm sorry, I didnʼt realize you were here, Iʼm Liam.” he says and Harry wants to say I know, instead he just forces a smile. 

“Yeah, Iʼm Harry, we met at the restaurant from a few days back?” 

“Right, I remember. Itʼs great seeing you again,” Harry wonders if he means that. If he really, truly feels that it was great to see him again or if he was just saying that because Harryʼs friends with Zayn. 

“Mhm, you too,” Harry says before he turns to Zayn again, half looking for help, half trying to get the message ʻlets get the fuck out of hereʼ across. 

“Alright!” Zayn says brightly, almost too brightly, Harryʼs questioning his mental state, “lets go find Niall.” 

// 

“Ok, so I was thinking I could show you to the sports center as well?” Liam says when he sees Niall approaching. They - Zayn, Liam and Harry - stand by the cafe as they wait for Niall to come and Harryʼs staring at Liam as if to say, “donʼt let him get any ideas. Please stop.” But of course Liamʼs words carry out to Niall like a prayer and he runs up to them, eyes wide, smile wide, and Barbara nowhere to be seen. 

“Sports center? Fuck yes, I so wanted to check the place out.” Niall says and Harry just stands back, listens to them make plans about where he was probably going to be dragged to the next morning. Jesus. This was supposed to be a vacation. Why canʼt they sleep in? “But I thought you had to be a member to be able to get in? Or use the facilities?” Niall continues and Harry feels something akin to hope; feels it for a second till Liamʼs speaking up again. 

“Yeah, but whoʼs to say I donʼt have a membership?” Liam says it like heʼs being clever. Harry just wants Liam to stop smiling so wide. 

“And youʼre saying that you can take us there?” Niall says slowly, faux careful because he knows the answer; Liam wouldnʼt have asked if he couldnʼt deliver. Of course he could take them there. Niallʼs just asking to give Liam bait. 

“Thatʼs exactly what Iʼm saying. That and I can show you around the place, too.” Then thinking better of it, he adds, “if youʼd like of course. If you all arenʼt too busy.” Harry likes Liam, he really does. Liamʼs sweet and he gets crinkles by his eyes when he smiles and those crinkles definitely shine around Zayn, and Zayn seems to like Liam quite a bit too so. Harry likes him, he does. Itʼs just that Liam... heʼs a people pleaser; he likes making people happy, but it was also hard to pinpoint when he was being genuine. When he was genuinely being a kind person and when he was, well, not. 

“Yeah, I think- we think that sounds good- great!” Zayn says, heʼs speaking more for himself than anyone, and Harry guesses Liamʼs ok with that. 

“But itʼs Monday today- wonʼt you have work?” Harry asks and Liam finally turns to face him, a crooked smile on his face. 

“I have a few shifts this week, yeah, but Iʼm pretty good friends with the owners of this place. Iʼm sure they can spare me a day off to show some lovely people around-” Charmer, this one, Harry thinks, and probably well known around town if heʼs friendly enough with a waiter of a restaurant to saunter in without a single worry and friendly enough with his boss to be able to easily make a promise of showing a bunch of strangers around town during a shift. 

“-speaking of the owners, here comes their arse of a son right now.” Liam says loudly, a laugh weaved into his voice, looking over Harryʼs shoulder and Harry thinks, wow, he must be really good friends with the owners if he so blatantly called their (assumable) son an arse, but when Harry turns around to follow Liamʼs excited gaze, stomach dropping like the leaves of autumn and the rays of sunlight at sunset, he canʼt help but agree because- 

“Louis Tomlinson.” 

Fuck. Itʼs him. Itʼs exactly the person Eleanor had said it was and itʼs exactly the person Harryʼd run into last day and itʼs exactly who Harry was so sure he wouldnʼt see again and Harryʼs going to throw up. All over the plush carpeting of the lobby and all over Louis Tomlinsonʼs snow boots because heʼs approaching them; confident smile, eyes still not finding Harry. 

“Liam Payne, always one to uphold my family name, how nice to see you.” Louis mocks. Harryʼs going to throw up. Louis still hasnʼt seen him because heʼs sort of hiding behind Zayn, and Niall and Zayn donʼt know that Louis Tomlinson is the same guy Harryʼs was whining over just the night before and heʼs going to throw up. Louisʼ scruff is still unshaven and his hair is pushed back messily. Heʼs wearing a loose shirt that has some logo on it and Harryʼs going to faint. Heʼs going to do something, just not manage to make it out of this encounter alive. 

Liam laughs. Niall laughs. Zayn manages a smile, though itʼs directed more towards Liam, and Harryʼs still hiding. Louisʼ eyes gaze over the three of them and heʼs just looking over 

Zaynʼs shoulder (Harryʼs going to throw up; he can feel the coffee in his stomach warning him) and then he sees him. Or Harry sees him. Or they see each other. Or whatever. They make eye contact. And itʼs not as enchanting as it sounds. 

“Arenʼt-” Louis starts, frowning a bit, then smirking full on and ok. Harryʼs going to have to stop hiding now. Fine. He stands straighter, moving from behind Zayn to stand beside him. 

“Havenʼt we met before?” Louis says, voice soft and insincere. 

“Yes, I believe we have. Yesterday, right?” Harry starts, and everyone turns to face him. “By a clearing? You were standing beside a pile of wood?” Harry says and his voice sounds a hell of a lot more confident than he feels. He can sense the realization hit Niall and Zayn beside him and heʼs sure - without looking - that Liamʼs large, joyous smile was turning into a frown. A confused, discombobulated frown. 

“Beside a shed actually,” Louis states, his voice just a little bit softer, as if Harryʼs somehow hurt his feelings. “Itʼs a work in progress,” he adds as if it helps his case in anyway at all. 

“Wait, youʼre-” Niall turns to face Louis completely. “The guy Harry was talking about last night?” Zayn finishes. 

“Woah-” Liam says then, “youʼre the lost tourist Lou was- scheisse, I mean-” He shuts up when Louis shoots a quick glare at him. 

“Iʼm flattered,” Louis says when he turns back to Harry and this feels a lot like a showdown; theyʼre both staring at each expectantly and Harryʼs palms are sweating, “that you told your friends about me.” 

“So am I, Louis.” Harry says and this is so awkward and Louisʼ family owns this lodge. 

“Now thats unfair.” Louis smiles; itʼs sweet in the bitterest way and Harryʼs thinking fast, trying to keep any and all comebacks near his thought process so that Louis doesnʼt get to have the last word this time. “You know my name, but I donʼt know yours.” 

“Are you asking?” Harry frowns. He can feel Zayn and Niall staring from him to Louis, because they must be just as confused as Harryʼs feeling. Probably even more. 

“Only if youʼll answer.” Louis says with a tilt of his head. “Why are we standing in the middle of the lobby? Lets go inside, sit down, Iʼve spent the entire morning out in the snow, running after little children so I think I deserve a cup of tea, no?” He turns to Liam and leans in to whisper something to him, leading the way back into the cafe as if he knows theyʼll follow him before Harry could actually answer. 

“Ok. Wow,” he hears Niall say under his breath beside him. “Uh, I guess you were right about one thing-” 

“He is most definitely hot,” Zayn finishes and thereʼs a smirk curling at the end of his words that makes Harry think his two friends took the conversation that just occurred very differently than Harry. In fact, Harryʼs sure they both took Louis very differently than Harry and that is definitely an unsettling thought. 

Harry moves to go inside the cafe and finds Liam and Louis at the back. They are still in deep conversation, so Harry pointedly takes a seat farthest away from Louis, but heʼs pretty sure that detail will not go unnoticed. 

When Louis finally looks up at the rest of the people sat around the table, his eyes instantly finds Harryʼs first, eyebrow raised as if asking a question and Harryʼs prepared 

“Harry Styles.” He states his name like a promise; a promise that heʼs not what Louisʼd imagined heʼd be. “My name is Harry Styles. That makes it fair, right?” 

“Sure does.” Louis nods and the glint in his eyes only brightens, as if Harry humors him somehow, then he gets up abruptly and Harry thinks heʼs like a meerkat when they stand tall. He silently laughs to himself at the comparison. “Iʼm going to go order, does anybody want anything?” 

“Actually, we were about to head out to lunch-” Harry starts, the excuse to leave this place flashes his mind like a lifeline. 

“Why would you want to head out?” Liam suddenly quirks. 

“Yeah, stay, weʼve got a lovely restaurant at the top floor.” Louis adds and Harry doesnʼt understand why. He just knows that he really doesnʼt want to spend another second with him. “We can promise you the best plate of Älplermagronen in all of Wengen.” Louis says this directly to Harry and itʼs like heʼs initiating some unspoken war between them. He can practically hear Niall gasp and Zayn stifle a laugh. Fuck them. 

“Älplermagronen,” Louis says again, still to Harry as if he knows that Harry doesnʼt know what that means. “Itʼs basically mac and cheese with apple sauce. Traditionally the dish of peasant farmers.” Harry doesnʼt know how to respond to that and he knows Louis knows that too. He can see it in the way Louisʼ smirks changes to an almost grin of victory. 

“Perfect for us then, innit?” Zayn grins and it saves the situation, really, even though Harry knowʼs Zayn only says it to get a reaction from Liam, it still saves Harry. 

“Weʼve also got a chicken and traditional version of Riz Casimir,” Liam says as if to convince them (Zayn) to stay. “And Red Rivella.” 

Harry can hear Liam continue and heʼs sure he hears a laugh from both Zayn and Liam, but he tunes it all out and glances back at Louis who manages to catch his gaze. Louisʼ eyes are hollow like blue clouds and he just stares, still from his standing position. Harry can see lines of crinkles around the creases of Louisʼ eyes and his lips are sitting against one another and Louis is really a gorgeous human being, really. Harry glances to his neck and he can see the way the shirt exposes the muscle there and when he looks back up, Louis is no longer looking at him. 

Harry can see the way everyone else is speaking, how everyone else is learning about each other and it feels like he should too. But. Thereʼs this...barrier keeping him from being whatever he wanted to be, from being himself and he doesnʼt know what it is and he doesnʼt know how to overcome it and so he does what he knows to do best- 

“Uh, Ni, Zee? You guys- you go ahead to the restaurant, Iʼm gonna head back to the lodge for some rest, alright? Iʼll meet you-” He starts, slowly getting up and avoiding eye contact with anyone. 

“Harry, no.” Niall wails dramatically and Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes- fondly. “You canʼt leave-” 

“Itʼs seriously alright, I just- I donʼt feel too great.” Itʼs so lame. Even to his own ears it sounds fleeting and weak. 

“No, weʼll- weʼll come with you.” Zayn says, a frown almost making its way to his face. “What if you get lost again?” 

Harry laughs a short, breathy laugh that sounds desperate in the dry, warm temperature of the cafe. Liam and Louis silently listen to the conversation but make no move to say anything. “Iʼm not a child, Jesus guys, Iʼll be fine-” and Harry stops to catch himself because he could strangely feel his eyes moisten as if a shower of tears were clouding his vision. “And if I do get lost,” he starts and makes a note of looking sharply at Louis, “Iʼll be sure to ask for directions. The people here seem wonderful. Iʼm positive theyʼd help me out, no problem.” And itʼs quick and precise and Harry feels quite fucking wonderful after saying it but- 

“Nonsense, Louisʼll guide you back to the lodge, wonʼt you Louis?” Liam says. Oh the irony. And Harryʼs sure Liamʼs doing this on purpose- for some purpose because he knows that Liam isnʼt thick enough to not see how much Harry and Louis had distaste for each other. 

“I- uh,” Louis says, for once at lost for words and surprisingly enough, Harry comes to the rescue- more for himself than anyone else. 

“No need for that, Liam. Louisʼ had a long day, let him drink his tea, relax a little, wouldnʼt want him to work too hard.” Harry aims for a light, effective road out of having to bear through a walk with Louis Tomlinson (though heʼs pretty sure Louis would ditch him the second they leave the ski lodge,) but then Louis narrows his eyes, as if Harryʼs offended him or something, and says: 

“No actually, Iʼm fine- in fact, I would love to walk you home, Harry.” // Itʼs silent. 

Theyʼve just gotten out of the ski lodge, Louisʼ made no move to leave Harry stranded and everything is completely silent. Harry wouldʼve preferred to have spent the silence alone, because spending it with Louis is feeling a lot more awkward than calming. 

And Louis is stiff beside him. Theyʼve got a respectable distance between them, but not to the point where itʼs childish (mainly because the walking paths arenʼt that wide, but also because theyʼre both grown men. Harryʼs mature. Just... not too mature.) Louis walks with purpose, Harry notices. He walks tall and sure, just like he stands and speaks and moves. His shoulders are pushed back and from where Harryʼs standing, just the slightest bit behind him, he can see the muscles tense and visible and prominent and itʼs definitely not 

hot. Harry focuses his vision on his surroundings, but the second he turns to look at what seems like a church, he stumbles and accidentally steps on the heel of Louisʼ feet. 

“Shit- sorry,” Harry mutters as he balances himself from pushing against Louisʼ back and tripping him completely all together. Louis mutters a curse word of his own, stops for a second, bends down to fix his shoes but before he returns back to his confident stride, he turns to look at Harry. 

“I didnʼt mean to-” Harry starts as he tries to look Louis in the eye, but his eyes fall to his feet almost on instinct. He feels like a child; an adolescent whoʼs just made a mistake, though heʼs pretty sure heʼs past that stage. Harry can feel Louis staring at him, and he realizes he must seem very different to the Harry whoʼd so confidently talked back to Louis, son of the owner of one of the biggest attraction of Wengen, so he straightens himself; forces his eyes to look up to meet Louisʼ. 

Louis only looks at him for another few seconds, mutters a small “Itʼs fine,” before he nods his head forward, as if to signal Harry that theyʼll be moving now, and continues to walk. 

Itʼs so silent that Harry can almost hear his own thoughts being said out loud; can almost feel the hum of his own voice speaking its thoughts and it makes Harry feel dizzy. The path theyʼre walking on is the same as the one they used to get to the Ski lodge and Harry wouldʼve definitely been able to make it back to the lodge fine. Itʼs also so silent that when Louis says something, it feels like the words are vibrating through Harryʼs veins and lighting the entire town; feels like a wake up call on a Monday morning. 

“So, how do you like Wengen Harry?” He asks and Harry takes a second to actually process the question because itʼs so vague. Such a simple question and yet the answer could entirely determine Harryʼs character, in a way. For Louis, it could give him an insight as to how Harry sees his home. 

“Itʼs to early to say,” Harry starts and that seems safe; that seems like something that wouldnʼt cause too much controversy. “I have only been here for few days. It would be a lot like judging the place if I already had an opinion, wouldnʼt it?” Harryʼs now walking beside Louis, theyʼre feet in step and so he tilts his head to scan Louisʼ profile. In the few seconds he allows himself to stare at Louisʼ face he can already admire Louisʼ sharp cuts, angular cheekbones and an almost clenched face; firm and steady and sure. Strong. 

“I guess youʼre right,” Louis says, his voice sounds very different from before, much more kinder, not necessarily to Harry himself, but in general. And much less mocking, much less like the tone he had the first time they met. It feels like relief for Harry. Heʼs pretty sure if Louis acted the same way he did when they first met, Harry wouldʼve punched him by now. 

“How do you like the people here then?” He asks again and Harry doesnʼt understand why he wants all this out of Harry. Maybe he wants to put Harry on the spot? Make him say something that would prove some kind of image Louis thinks Harryʼs like? Maybe heʼs just genuinely wondering if heʼs spoilt Harryʼs judgement on the people of Wengen in general? 

“Uh,” Harry starts, briefly glancing at the ground as if asking for help, “same as before, too early to say. Iʼve only met a handful of people, it wouldnʼt be fair to judge an entire community based on how just a few people are.” Harry says, glances up at Louis for only a second before he turns back to look to the front. Itʼs very green during the afternoon; the 

grass seems likes shiny examples of gems and thereʼs a breeze that tastes clean and fresh and complete. There are tiny hills everywhere that roll like a constant movement; like the consistent crash of the waves of nostalgia you get when you taste your mums cooking or visit your childhood petʼs grave. 

Louis just nods. 

Harry wants to ask him about what he thinks of Wengen. About what he thinks of the people and if or not he watches Friends reruns and why he acts the way he does. But. That isnʼt appropriate, not yet; they arenʼt close enough for Harry to ask that, so instead he asks, “How do you know Liam?” 

Louis glances at him for a second, but turns forward before Harry can look back and says, “Met him when he first applied for a job at the lodge. He was around sixteen years old and uh, we just got along, I guess.” His voice sounds short and Harry wonders why he isnʼt smirking or mocking at him anymore; wonders what makes it different. 

Theyʼre close to the lodge. Harry can see the mini mart he went to yesterday and they pass by the central of the town. There are much more people here and some of them even wave at Louis, looking curiously at Harry as if wondering what he was doing beside Louis himself. Theyʼre all moving in a lively buzz and Harry can hear the noises of life and movement and people and itʼs starting to feel familiar. 

“Louis?” He turns to Louis after a gap of silence. When Louis nods in acknowledgment, Harry continues, “Why- why isnʼt there any road system here?” 

Louis looks at him for a second while they walk and Harry wonders if asking that was a mistake, before Louis shrugs. “No point,” He says, “its a small village, we used to be an alpine farm, still are during the spring. And cars would just add noise. Noise and pollution. Plus, its much nicer traveling on foot or going on the cable car.” 

“Yeah, but that doesnʼt really give you- this town the opportunity to really expand now does it? Thereʼs no, like, direct access to the rest of the world.” Harry says just as they begin to the see the beginning of the lodge. Harry turns to look at Louis, about to thank him for coming though it really wasnʼt needed before Louis speaks again. “Iʼve been here all of my life, and Iʼve never needed the rest of the world.” 

And with that, he turns to walk away, no goodbye. 

The only thing Harry gets mad about is the fact that Louis, once again, manages to get the last word. 

// 

Harryʼs by the stove when Niall and Zayn come back, a mug of hot cocoa by his side, stirring foreign instant noodles. 

“He kissed him,” Niall half yells, half mutters as they get inside and Zaynʼs face is red hot and burning. Harryʼs stood solid, like a statue. “Zayn kissed...” Harry starts and the look on Zaynʼs face confirms it. What the actual fuck. 

“What?” Harry whines, dropping the wooden spoon he found in one of the kitchen drawers beside the pot, “how come I always miss all the important stuff?” 

“Itʼs because you never stick around to witness it,” Niall says half heartedly, making his way to the kettle. The day was settling, and it was nearing five o'clock, the atmosphere felt like a sting and Harry pointed at the the window he kept open to Zayn, motioning him to close it. 

“Shut up, Niall,” Harry says, hip smacking him as he moves to get one of the bowls up on the cupboards. He turns to look at Zayn who stands by the window, biting his thumbnail. 

“You sure it was-” Harry starts, about to rant about safety and how heʼs only known Liam for practically a day, but then thinking better of it because Zayn did seem happy, he sighs, “Was he at least a good kisser?” 

// 

Liam mustʼve been a great kisser because one day later on a bright afternoon, following lunch, after no sign of him or Louis, Liam stands outside their hotel room, grinning widely, and Harryʼs the one that opens the door. 

“Uh, hi?” Harry starts, and heʼs not even curious as to how Liam found their room because either Zayn or Niall told him, or Eleanor downstairs has. Talk about privacy. 

“Harry! How are you?” Liam asks. Heʼs got a beanie perched on top of his short hair and heʼs wearing a sweater with blue jeans. Now, Harry presumes Liamʼs a great kisser because the second he moves back to let Liam come inside, Zaynʼs coming out of his room, eyes brightening at the sight of Liam, muttering a gentle “youʼre here” before taking large steps and pecking his lips softly, tenderly. Harry stands back, awkwardly looking away as Niall comes out of the room next and looks at Harry with a smirk that says “told you so.” Not that Harry ever doubted him. 

Zayn and Liam are just staring at each other, faces tucked close as they mutter soft words against their lips and Harry thinks its cute, he thinks is great Zaynʼs happy, but he would also like if they would keep their romantic encounters to themselves. Also, heʼs pretty sure Zaynʼs going to be all embarrassed about it later, so. “Liam, can I get you anything? Some tea?” 

Liam abruptly turns to look at him, though he makes no move to move away from Zayn (neither does Zayn, which is weird because heʼs not usually so open with affection. At least not with people he likes in front of his friends) and nods softly, “yes please, if you donʼt mind.” Sigh. Liamʼs really quite sweet. Harryʼs probably going to get used to him soon. “Sure,” he smiles back and heads for the kitchen, ends up making a cup for all of them. 

They settle around the couch, Zayn and Liam glued side by side, with their tea and some lemon custard biscuits and itʼs quiet for a few seconds, almost as if everyoneʼs processing whats happening. Finally, Liam says something. “Thanks for the tea, Harry.” He hasnʼt even taken a sip, Harry counters, but shakes his head a ʻno problemʼ either way. And then its silent once again. 

“Ok,” Niall says because Niallʼs the best and he finds these kind of situations just as awkward as Harry, only heʼs doing something about it. “Are you going to take us to the sports center then Liam?” Now Liam looks a little embarrassed, checks reddening as he takes his first sip of tea. 

“Um, no actually,” he says, ducking his head down and scratching the back of his neck, “itʼs closed today, but I still have the day off, so I thought I could still give you a tour of Wengen? Maybe even bring you up to the Männlichen.” He stops for a second to frown. “But maybe not, because you could either go on a hike or maybe sightsee, but-” 

“How about you just show us around town, yeah?” Harry interrupts, because that doesnʼt sound too bad. Heʼs already done that like five times, so. 

“But weʼve already done that.” Niall whines. 

“Well then, we could just stay inside the whole day and have an actual vacation,” Harry snorts and Niall shoots him a look. When no one else says anything, Niall sighs. 

“Fine. Lets go for a walk.” He gets up to head to the bathroom, muttering a quiet “again” under his breath. 

// 

Theyʼre walking along a narrow path, the steep edge on one side and Harryʼs been here before. 

Liamʼs already showed them around the central. Showed them some of the cafeʼs and restaurants and Harryʼs learnt that Liamʼs friends with everybody. Or. Everybodyʼs friends with everybody. It would be expected because itʼs such a dainty town, and everyone is really everything anyone has. As far as residential citizens come. Heʼs also showed them around the church, a handful of local schools, a pretty park with benches covered in leaves and a few little souvenir stores. But then. Then he leads them to a path, and itʼs familiar. For Harry, itʼs familiar. 

Liamʼs saying something about the weather, more or less to Zayn, though Niallʼs got his ears open and Harryʼs walking behind them all thinking Iʼve been here. Because of course he has. This was were he got lost just a few days ago. This was were he met Louis Tomlinson a few days ago. Just ahead on this exact path. 

“Uh, Liam?” He asks from behind, walking faster to squeeze in next to Niall. 

“Yeah?” Liam turns to him. Heʼs got an arm around Zaynʼs waist and it surprised no one, really. Itʼs kind of sickeningly cute, and Niallʼs already made a few comments about them thatʼs left them both blushing like newlyweds. 

“Why- where are we going?” He asks, and Liam gives him a curious look. 

“Well I- Louʼs working on some project here so I thought weʼd stop by then head back,” he shrugs, “itʼs been quite a while, you guys should be getting a little tired, no?” 

“Weʼre going to meet Louis?” Zayn says suddenly, eyes holding the same glint they had the first time heʼd said anything about Louis. Liam nods, giving Zayn a small, fond smile, but Zayn doesnʼt return it- in fact, he isnʼt even looking at Liam (shocking!), heʼs sharing a smirk with Niall, which is never good- 

“Whatʼre we waiting for then? Lets go!” Niall says, louder than necessary. Harry isnʼt pleased. He isnʼt even amused. 

“Is this where you got lost Harry?” Liam asks him and yes, of course it is. 

“Uh, yeah- yeah.” Harry answers without meeting anyoneʼs eye and Harryʼs feeling quite dizzy because he remembers this place exactly. Knows how close they are to where Louis last was- or where Harryʼd last seen him. Literally, they take another couple steps and Harry can almost feel the sight of Louis right around the right, next to his work in progress. And Harryʼs right. 

He hears the same sound of wood splitting and he knows. He knows Louis is there and heʼs right because just a second later there is a Louis Tomlinson. He leans against the end of a sturdy log and Harry can see he wears nothing but some joggers, axe in hand. They come just in time to see him swing his arm back and bring it down to cut of a lengthy panel of wood. And fuck, if Harryʼs having trouble breathing, because Louisʼ muscles are shining; under the heat of the sun and layered in sweat, his skin looks tan and gorgeous and beautiful and he was hot till he was not, he was hot till he was not, he was hot till he was not. 

(Heʼs still fucking hot though, fuck) 

“Louis,” Liam calls, and Louis instantly looks up, a grin sketched on his face, stringed out and wide and gorgeous, “mr hänn is schon lang nümme g'seh.” Harryʼs not sure what Liamʼs saying, but it definitely earns a snort from Louis. 

“Shut up, you saw me just yesterday,” Louis smiles, then notices they way Liamʼs got an arm around Zayn and raises an eyebrow at him, questioning but nonetheless pleased, “Very clingy you are.” Louis says like an afterthought as settles his axe down and wipes his hands on his pants, eyes falling to Zayn and Niall and finally, lastly, to Harry. “Youʼre back!” He says directly to Harry, his voice just above a smile, just below a mock. It still makes Harryʼs skin burn. “Definitely not lost again, right?” Harry bites the inside of his cheek to stop from hissing at him, instead he mutters a short “no” under his breath and looks back at the mountains standing behind him, hands pinching at his hips. 

“Leave him alone, weʼre just here to say hi,” Liam says and Harry can tell heʼs grinning because his words are weightless. 

“Ah, of course. Hi.” Heʼs got a cheeky grin on, and Harry thinks he looks like such a little shit but itʼs cute and Louis looks mighty fine just as the sun ray hits the bulge of Louisʼ arm as he reaches down to pick up his axe and some tattoos scattering the top of his right arm and one massive one across his collarbones reading ʻThings I canʼt” and bloody hell. 

“Whatʼre you working on?” Niall asks and Louis turns to look at him with the widest smile spread out across his face, crinkles by his eyes like a token of happiness. “My latest project,” he says, his voice more alive and excited than Harryʼd anticipated, “there was going to be a bike trail across where you guys just came from, and I was initially making a store room, for pumps and stuff in case a bike broke down or something,” he says, looking at the little bundle of wood and nails, strings attached to the sides like how a bivouac would be put up. “But then they cut off the bike trail and now this is more of a little shelter thing,” he says, “more for myself.” 

“And youʼre just allowed?” Harry suddenly quirks. “To build a wooden shelter for yourself on any patch of land you want?” 

“Well, considering the land is actually owned by the ski resort which my father is the founder of, I guess yeah, Iʼm allowed,” Louis says, an eyebrow raised and Harry frowns at how sure he sounds. “But Iʼm not to sure if anyone else is.” Harry decides that he should just keep his mouth shut whenever around Louis. It seems that would benefit him most because they have some weird unsettled battle going on right now and heʼs walking on Louisʼ homeland, on foreign roots. So. Mouth shut, he looks away from Louisʼ gaze and forces himself to keep it away from from Louisʼ gaze. 

“Well then,” Zayn says finally, stressing on the well and looking around at everybody, clasping his hands together. Liam looks a little sheepish, running his eyes from Louis to Harry and Niallʼs just biting his nails, as if part of something suspenseful. “We should, uh, we should begin heading back, Eleanor promised us tea so,” Zayn turns to Liam and mutters softer, but loud enough for anyone to hear if they wanted to, “you can stay back here with Louis if you like, we can manage our way back ourselves-” 

“Oh, no, Iʼll come with,” Liam says a little surprised, “I sort of need to head back home too, one of my sisters came to visit from London, and I promised Iʼd be home soon.” And well, that settles it. They wave goodbye to Louis, Liam grins out a “sali!” and theyʼre walking out of the side clearing in which Louisʼ working and turning towards the stone path. 

Itʼs then Harry wonders what would be ahead if heʼd just continued walking the way heʼd come and itʼs that question that makes him call out to his friends and mutter something about meeting up with them soon and wanting to walk a little further. 

“Harry, you canʼt be serious.” Zayn says, voice shocked and quite stern in the dry and yellow atmosphere. The ground is bright and blossoming and there are summer flowers dotting the sides, the edges of the mountain as if it makes it look any less large and inordinately intimidating. 

“What? I know the way back-” He starts to argue and he can see Liam turn to Zayn in concern as if it was abnormal for him to ever feel frustration or anger or whatever he was feeling towards Harry right then. 

“But why donʼt you want to come back with us now? You could sightsee all you want some other day,” Zayn questions, eyes just the slightest bit flushed with anger and Niallʼs standing on the side, still biting his nails, looking nervous and worried and unlike Niall. 

“I just- itʼs nothing personal, Zee, I just thought ʻhey, Iʼm back here again. Why not go explore a bit,?ʼ” Harry says like itʼs obvious. 

“Fine. Whatever. Just- just donʼt get lost and stuff. Come back if you ʻfeel like it.ʼ” “Zayn, cʼmon mate, itʼs not-” 

“Lets go guys, give him the privacy he needs and all.” And they leave, Harry standing, watching them walk, wondering if they had some theory and Harryʼd just proved it and now they were probably mad it him for it too. 

// 

So, Harry ends up moving forward. 

He passes Louis and his hut and Louis doesnʼt notice him - or doesnʼt bother to notice him - as he works on hammering two planks of wood to a stable, secure placement. He walks past the mountains and he walks past the flowers and he walks so far ahead that it begins to feel as if he hadnʼt walked at all. Every step forward feels like heʼs breaking some barrier and pushing into more of what he doesnʼt know and with every passing second the sky turns a million different shades, blue and cloudy and pink and orange and its so, so fast. Harry feels as if time hadnʼt passed at all. 

Heʼs got a watch on him, but he doesnʼt bother checking the time, mind both blank and and filled, as if it canʼt make up its mind, till it feels like just a blur and Harry suddenly stops when he realizes its not just his mind thats blurry, itʼs his vision too, because heʼs got tears piling up, filled like a well, and contained like itʼs limitless. Itʼs too much of a blur to keep going and even Harry can understand the dangers of walking on the side of a mountain without knowing where youʼre going so he stops and he takes a seat; on the path, feet edging closer to the edge so that its close to dangling, parallel to the concrete mountain he sits on. 

He tries his best to pull his tears back, confused and questioning why theyʼre there in the first place and as he calms himself down to slow breaths and balanced skin temperature, he looks ahead and he looks forward. Itʼs green and dark and itʼs like a painting; just judging from the colour of the sky, Harry can tell its getting late. Not to the point where itʼs dark, but to the point where everythingʼs got a foggy glow surrounding it and the green of the mountains look like a dull, dark and cold shade. Itʼs really quite beautiful. 

Itʼs also quiet. Peaceful. 

The only thing Harry hears is the slight hum of the wind thats starting to feel cold and as an afterthought, Harry thinks to what Louis was wearing before, just those pants, and he wonders if heʼs cold now. If so, Harry would be very pleased, but also quite worried, because heʼs a nice person. 

“Why am I not surprised?” he hears from behind him and it shocks him a lot more on the inside than what he shows on the outside as he calmly turns his head to face Louis, thankfully wearing a shirt and a leather jacket. Why is Harry not surprised either? “Iʼm always finding you, arenʼt I?” 

“I never said I was lost,” Harry replies as he turns to face the view once more. From the corner of his eye, he can see Louis stand behind him for a little longer before he sighs and moves to sit beside Harry. His thighs brush Harryʼs and Harry feels warmth radiating off of him as if he were a lit candle contrasting a raging storm. Harry notices that right beside where Louis is sitting is a pouffy bush, so he scoots over to give him more room. 

“Do you like being alone then, Harry?” he asks, his voice just plain curious as he turns his face to look directly at Harry in a way that forces Harry to look back. 

“Why do you ask that?” Harry inquires, because the question itself threw him off. 

“I dunno,” Louis shrugs, “youʼre just- you seem to like to be alone a lot. Take now as an example. You were just silently sitting here, all by yourself, even though the last time I saw you, you were with your friends,” he stops, “plus Liam, if he counts as a friend.” Harry wouldʼve felt very insecure, very interrogated if it werenʼt for Louisʼ easy smile and the way his eyes held no judgement even though the first time they met, all they had in them were judgement. 

“I- they um, left.” Harry says and he likes that Louis doesnʼt ask for further explanations, just turns back to face the scenery as theyʼre enveloped in silence one again. Itʼs so lovely, Harry muses as he focuses on staring into the farthest distance and faces the pleasing fact that wherever he looked, he saw dark and deep and secure and beautiful. 

“Can I ask you something?” Louis says, soft against the delicate moment, as if the view had influenced his way of communication, if only for now. Harry only nods but he doesnʼt think Louis would actually care because he goes ahead and asks the question. 

“Whyʼd you come to Wengen, Harry?” Itʼs so simple and the answer is so simple and Harry has a hard time saying it. 

“Weʼre, uh, weʼre on vaca-” he starts but Louis abruptly shakes his head. 

“No, not ʻweʼreʼ just you. Whyʼd you come to Wengen?” Its sounds just the slightest bit accusing, but the curiosity behind it lets Harry know Louis isnʼt trying to make him feel guilty. 

“I suppose I came because Zayn and Niall really wanted me to” he admits and neither of them are looking at each other. Just ahead, because it felt easier to face a vast image of no one in particular and answer a question than it wouldʼve been face to face. “I didnʼt- I wasnʼt really keen on coming actually, and they really wanted me to take a break, join them on this trip because I missed out on the last one,” Harry sighs, “so I joined- I came to Wengen.” He stops to quickly glance at Louis. “Can I ask you something now? And you have to promise to answer it honestly?” 

Louis has the same response as Harry. He simply nods. 

“The first time we met- whyʼd you-” Harry stops before he says something embarrassing, “what were you thinking? Like, what was going through your head? You seemed to like, really dislike me or something.” For the first time, Louis laughs and it sounds a little forced, but more or less amused. 

“Hey, you werenʼt too fond of me either,” he says beside a smile, “but I was thinking, and mind my horrible judgmental mind, that you were a pretty daft tourist who didnʼt know how to appreciate beauty.” Harry turns to face him, shocked. 

“Excuse me?” Louis laughs again, holding his hands out in defense. 

“Hear me out,” he starts, “Iʼm sorry for thinking that, Iʼm just really protective over my village? And my work- my project of the moment, you didnʼt seem to like it very much and that sort of made me mad,” he admits with a shrug, and Harryʼs about to ask why but Louis continues, “so yeah, Iʼm sorry for being a dick, really am, ʻjust thought you were, I dunno.” He shrugs and Harry doesnʼt know how to answer him, he isnʼt even sure if he should say anything, so he doesnʼt. But Louis does. 

“But I feel as if you never really finished explaining yourself. You came to Wengen because your friends wanted you to- then what?” 

“Then nothing, I guess. Iʼve just- been really invested in my studies, and they thought coming out here during the summer would be a good way to relax-” 

“Do you though, do you think coming here was a good route to ʻrelaxationʼ? Do you think coming here was worth it at all?” 

“Yes? No?” Harry says, frustration taking over his body like a sand storm. “I donʼt- it certainly hasnʼt been helping our actual friendship.” He says and he knows its vague, but Louis just looks at him for a second. As if leaving the option there for him to chose to expand or to just drop it. 

“Theyʼre mad at me,” Harry sighs, “especially Zayn. I think he thinks Iʼve been really distant recently, I dunno.” Itʼs hard, Harry thinks. Speaking about your weaknesses or the things that are dear and tender to you, itʼs hard to speak of them. Especially to a stranger, and Harry doesnʼt know why heʼs saying anything at all. Maybe itʼs because Louis is actually here. Actually listening. 

The sky gets foggier, its almost a grey mist and the murky green of the sky must reflect in Harryʼs eyes because of what Louis says next. 

“Oh, is that why you look like youʼve been crying?” he says, reaching over to swipe a thumb under Harryʼs eye and heʼs teasing, so Harry lets out a wet laugh thatʼs swallowed by the roar of a distant thunder. Harry can taste the rain before it even falls, earthy and dry and tinted in summer nights. “Fuck off,” he mumbles as he pushes Louisʼ hands away, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from returning. 

Louis smiles at him, small and quick, before he turns back to face away from Harry, as if giving him room. “But they love you, right?” Louis asks quietly, not looking at Harry as Harry looks at him, a question on his face. “What?” 

“Your friends- they must really love you.” And Harryʼs wondering why that point needs to be stressed right now. Heʼs wondering why heʼs here. 

“Toʼve even brought you to Wengen, heck, to a holiday- they seem to care about you a lot, Harry. Even if theyʼre a little upset now.” 

“I donʼt-” Harry starts as he shakes his head a little. He knows all this. He does. 

“You have to realize, Harry, that they probably want whatʼs best for you. And if theyʼre mad now, itʼs probably because somethingʼs happening that they canʼt control and theyʼre worried it might effect you negatively,” Louis says without hesitation and Harry sort of stares at him for a second. Sort of lets the words digest in his stomach along with the structure of Louisʼ jaw. “I mean, guessing from what Iʼve seen, and I havenʼt seen much mind you, Iʼm thinking they love you and are worried about you and you just need to reassure them or something. I dunno. But, do whatever you must soon.” Louis starts to grin. “That sad look doesnʼt really suit you.” 

Harry lets out another laugh into the air of the sky, letting it echo back to him like a promise. He shakes his head a little, closing his eyes and letting cold air caress his cheeks like a lover would, fingers cold and tender and painful. “Alright, thanks Dr Phil, Iʼll- Iʼll keep your words in mind,” Harry nods in finality and it really is getting quite chilly, with the clouds turning shades darker and the mood of the ground turning dark and angry. 

He should head back, he really should, but itʼs been a long time since heʼs been able to catch his breath like this, and Louis is really much nicer company than Harry would have ever guessed. “Remember when you asked me about how I liked Wengen? And I had said I didnʼt know yet?” Harry asks suddenly once heʼs sure his voice wonʼt crack, shifting his body to look at Louis. His scruff is shorter, curling under and above his lips and Harry wonders if it would itch if Louis were to run it down Harryʼs neck. Now, thereʼs a thought. 

“Yeah, I remember,” Louis nods, turning to face Harry as well, but frowning when he notices that Harryʼs shivering and his fingers are slightly blue. “Are you cold?” he asks and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“No,” Harry deadpans and Louis shoots him a look, so he sighs and mutters, “Iʼm used to it. It gets cold in London too.” 

“Youʼre from London?” Louis asks. “Uh yeah, I study at uni there. You didnʼt know?” 

“I donʼt stalk you, Harry. I just thought, guessing from your accent, you were from further up north. Cheshire, maybe?” 

Harry nods. “Correct. Holmes Chapel is where I was born, but Londonʼs where Iʼm at now. At least, for now.” 

“Alright,” Louis says but his frown of concern stays. “But Iʼm sure in London you would dress appropriately when it gets cold though, right?” And before Harry can answer, heʼs shrugging off his leather jacket and Harryʼs eyes are going wide, wide, wide. 

“No, no stop, you donʼt have to-” Harry starts to protest but Louisʼ already shoving the jacket at him. He takes it with careful hands, but doesnʼt put it on. 

“What about you? Wonʼt you get cold?” Harry asks, taking in Louisʼ long sleeved t-shirt. 

“Itʼs better than that useless t-shirt youʼve got on,” Louis grins and Harry pouts. “Hey, I didnʼt know itʼd get this cold, I didnʼt know Iʼd stay here for so long,” but the words get drowned in what Louis is saying. 

“Plus, Iʼve lived in Wengen for most of my life. I work on those damn wood projects through summer and winter- Iʼve gotten used to this.” So Harry pulls the jacket over his shoulders and lets his hands slip into the sleeves, pulling them to cover most of his fingers, mostly to keep them warm, but also because it makes his hands look like paws. The leather smells warm and woody and a bit musky but also a bit Louis. Harry canʼt explain how much he likes that the scent is enveloping him with wide, warm hands. 

“Tell me more,” Harry requests after a while, “about Wengen- I was going to ask you about that earlier but,” Harry pauses to take a long, slow breath of air that is bitter and different, “tell me how you like it. Tell me more about it.” 

“Tell you how I like Wengen?” Louis asks, shocked, as if heʼs never had the questioned asked. Harry nods simply and doesnʼt let himself feel embarrassed before he can just shake it off with a small ʻnever mind.ʼ 

“Well, I uh- I donʼt like it. I donʼt think I like it,” Louis says to himself and now Harry turns to face the green and the grey and the unknown to give Louis the space he needs. “Iʼm pretty sure by now Iʼve fallen in love with Wengen. Itʼs hard not to, really.” Harry chuckles at that and Louis gives him a light shove with his shoulder. “Hey now, I didnʼt exactly love it when I first came here either.” Harry wants to ask where heʼs from, but Louis was silent when he spoke, so heʼll be silent for now. 

“Iʼm came to Wengen at the age of six? Seven? Canʼt quite remember, but Iʼm sure I was young, and at first, I absolutely hated it here.” Louis laughs, short and private. “I thought it was so boring, I had nothing to do. My father started the ski lodge and I would just sit in the cafe and draw and play football and-” 

“Inside?” Harry interrupts and Louis nods, pleased with himself. 

“Yup. I was adored by everyone. Bossesʼ son and all, they let me get away with everything,” Louis says and Harry rolls his eyes, though he doesnʼt have a hard time believing it. “And then, like a few years later, I really got into Design and Technology- like woodworks and crafting and stuff, but I never took a course in school- they didnʼt offer it. So I stuck to making things of my own.” 

Louis shrugs, “I dunno, Wengen just became it for me and I just-” he sighs, “itʼs hard to explain, I was sort of pushed into the path of getting used to this lifestyle, but,” he laughs at himself for a second before turning to look at Harry, small smile left over on his face and Harry wonders if he should back peddle and take the question back. “See, being in this one place for most of my life, watching the same sunrise every morning and wishing the same sky goodnight, Iʼve always been still, Iʼve always felt steady,” Louis says and Harry listens to every word like it holds answers and like it should mean something to him. “Iʼve always known where my feet stand and what my days hold... and, itʼs- itʼs a lot like looking at your hands and just knowing how you got that splinter by your thumb and knowing why your fingers are particularly burnt,” He looks down at his hands for emphasis, pointing to a little cut by his forefinger that looks fresh and new , “like this one for example, I got this today while nailing a few planks together for the rough build,” he glances up at Harry before looking back around the town, back to the fog as if it were his kingdom. “Itʼs like looking at your favorite written book, finished and content, reading it for the tenth time knowing exactly what to expect, but still witnessing the dull buzz you had the first time. Being here for me, in this town, with these people... itʼs like being home... it is home.” 

Harry wants to understand, he wants to be able to say ʻyeah, I get it, I know,ʼ but he canʼt because he doesnʼt. “I can... I understand, I get what youʼre saying Louis,” he sighs, “but for me... for me this isnʼt home. For me this is a holiday, this is not tomorrowʼs promise and this is not definite and this isnʼt for good, this is an experience.” He looks down at his hands, unable to stare at the same distance and unable to hold Louisʼ gaze. “And I want- I want it to be a good one, Louis, I do-” 

“This is only what youʼll let it be. Heck, pardon the cliche, but life is what you make of it, this... vacation is what you want it to be,” he shrugs as he speaks and Harry can see his cheeks are tinted and flushed and his hair curls around the back of his neck like a mane and he looks experienced and matured. But when he speaks again, he sounds like a cheeky young boy. “Iʼm part of that experience though, Harry. And I want to be remembered as a good part, so I was thinking- maybe we should stop being such dicks to each other, eh?” He grins, showing off his teeth and his crinkles, “try and be friends? For the sake of Zayn and Liam, at least. Theyʼre gonna wanna spend every second together, and if weʼre dragged along with them, at least we can be civil.” 

“Yeah, sorry for being so hostile before,” Harry says, cheeks flushed as he plays with the hem of the leather jacket. It feels heavy and secure around him and even though he should give it back, he wants it around him for just that much longer. 

“Nah, forget it about, I already have,” Louis says, a smile in his voice as he gets up and brushes the dirt off his back. He holds a hand out for Harry. “Cʼmon now, itʼs getting late. Lets get you home.” Harry frowns a little, but takes his hand nonetheless and lets Louis pull him up to his feet. Itʼs gone numb, so he wobbles a bit, nearly falling over but Louisʼ got a strong grip on his hands, another hand coming to balance at Harryʼs waist. “Careful, wouldnʼt want you to fall off the mountain, not that weʼve just agreed to a truce.” 

“What, if we didnʼt youʼd let me fall?” Harry teases once heʼs on his two feet. Louisʼ hands on his waist donʼt move though. Louis grins in response. “I donʼt think so, no. Youʼre too pretty to die so young.” Harryʼs cheeks flush again, but he manages to shove Louis half- heartedly on the chest. Louisʼ hands are on him, tight around his waist, until one of his hands come off and Harry realizes that so does the warmth surrounding him. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Louis,” he grins, moving back to the path and off the side. “And you donʼt have to walk me home, I know the way,” he says but Louis walks beside him, a comfortable distance between them that lets the shine of the rising moon cripple around Louisʼ face and their walkway. 

“Youʼre right, I donʼt,” Louis says and for a second, Harry feels something akin to disappointment. “But I think I will either way. You know the way during day. Itʼs very different during dark.” 

“Really?” Harry asks, but doesnʼt protest as they begin to move together in a steady pace. Everywhere looks like a mist; like a haze of blurry shapes and dark green ground and itʼs like a dream of chilly air and supple figures. “How?” 

“Well for one itʼs much harder to see,” Louis states the obvious. “And also itʼs hard to tell which road leads where, and itʼs also more difficult to read the signs of the buildings, so everything kind of looks the same.” 

“Ok,” Harry says, “thanks though, for uh, for walking me home,” he grins sheepishly, “again.” 

Louis bumps his shoulder with his own, shooting a quick smile. “No problem.” // 

They pass the central, and even though Louis was right that everything was a little darker, he also didnʼt mention that there were twinkling streetlights lining the area like little freckles or dots of burnt stars and Harryʼs amazed at how alive and beautiful and different everything seems. 

“Wengen may be a small town, but the nightlife is anything but boring,” Louis grins. “Back in my teenage years, the nightlife was the best life.” 

“Back in your teenage years? That makes you sound ancient,” Harry laughs, biting a piece off a chunk of Landjäger Louisʼd bought him saying it was a popular snack. It was basically dried sausage. “How old are you?” Harry asks with a happy frown because he felt so warm around here. There were people walking the streets and it felt more lively than Harryʼd ever felt it before. 

“Twenty-two,” Louis smiles, “not too old, I guess, but old enough to say ʻback in my teenage yearsʼ and mourn about becoming a unsuccessful adult.” 

“Hey, now, youʼre still young. Still have a bit of life in you,” Harry teases as they walk down the street, passing a closed bookshop and a closed sports supplies shop and then the mini mart and Harry knew they were close. 

“How about you, young ʻun?” Louis says, pointedly ignoring Harryʼs comment and walking them down a narrow sidewalk, a hand pushing at the small of Harryʼs back. 

“Young ʻun? That makes me sound like a child,” Harry muses, eyebrows raised. “You are a child,” Louis says simply with a pleased grin. “Youʼre not any better, Mr. Ancient.” Louis laughs at that. “Why, thank you.” 

“Iʼm twenty.” Harry finally admits. “Old enough to walk home myself. Young enough to let others buy me snacks.” Harry grins. 

“Donʼt get too used to it, Curly. This is a one time thing,” Louis says, his tone not convincing at the slightest, and thatʼs what makes Harryʼs smile brighten. 

“Of course,” Harry nods and theyʼre really close now, approaching the lodge like they did two days ago. Itʼs silent for the last few seconds as the walk up to the front of the lodge and Harry turns to say goodbye to Louis. 

“Well, thank you,” Harry says and he means for listening to him and smiling with him and walking him home. He means for today. 

Louis shakes his head. “Donʼt worry about it, and-” he looks at Harry, “remember to talk to them- your friends I mean. They love you a lot, yeah?” 

Harry nods. “Yeah.” He feels as if heʼs missing something and Louis just looks at him a second longer before heʼs walking backwards, smiling a last smile at Harry. “Sali,” He says and Harry just watches him till heʼs nothing but a fleck amongst the muted lights and Harry walks inside, taking as much of the same, yet suddenly new, air of the surrounding. 

// 

“Zaynʼs mad at you,” Eleanor says when Harry walks past the front desk. She doesnʼt look up from a magazine and her hair is pulled into a messy bun. Harry sighs and slumps against the desk, looking at her until she sighs herself and glances up at him. 

“I know.” Harry all but pouts and Eleanorʼs looking conflicted. “Louis suggested I talk to him- and Niall, so Iʼm thinking I -” Harry says absentmindedly, forgetting that for the past few days, heʼs been coming down here to complain about Louis to Eleanor. 

“Louis suggested? Excuse me?” Eleanor frowns, a smirk perking around her lips. 

Harry sighs again. “Iʼll tell you later, right now I need to get up and fix things with my friends.” 

“This isnʼt fair at all, but alright. Go ahead, and uh,” she bends under the desk and retrieves a container. “Itʼs banana cake, leftover from tea. Zayn skipped it, Liam went home, so Niall and I were the only ones there.” Harry smiles at her. 

“Thank you, El,” He mutters, taking the container and leaning over to peck her cheek. “Have a good night.” 

“Wait, do you want me to keep room service dial on?” She asks and Harry thinks sheʼs definitely an angel. 

“I think I may love you, Eleanor.” Harry says and Eleanor raises an eyebrow, as if to say ʻyouʼre an idiot. Shut up,ʼ so he continues, “yes please,” before making his way to the stairs. He can hear Eleanor mutter her goodbye after him. 

“Good luck, babe.” // 

When Harry walks into the room, Niallʼs in the kitchen and Zaynʼs nowhere to be seen. Harry decides to talk to Niall first. 

“Hi,” he starts and Niall glances up at him , smiling a forced smile before glancing down at his instant noodles. 

“Iʼm sorry.” Thats a good start, right? Harry goes over to him and stands by him like a lost puppy. Niall caves in after about two seconds and turns to turn cooker off. 

“Are you alright, Harry?” Niall asks and Harryʼs taken aback by the question, but he manages a nod. “Of course, why- why would you ask that Niall?” 

“I dunno mate, youʼve just... are you mad at me? For making you come here? Is that why youʼve been so distant lately?” Oh. Oh no. 

“No, Niall. God no, thatʼs not- Iʼm not mad at you at all, Jesus, Iʼm just a little overwhelmed, but Iʼm not mad. At all,” Harry shakes his head wildly and Niallʼs biting his lip in worry. 

“Then why?” A voice demands from behind them and when Harry turns, he can see Zayn leaning against the wall on the end of the kitchen and his arms are crossed, so are his eyes. “Why are you so...” he doesnʼt finish his sentence and Harry feels that necessary need to cry again, can feel the way his vision begins to sting. 

“Iʼm a dick. And Iʼm sorry. Iʼm a fucking asshole and a bastard and Iʼm just, I needed some time alone, just by myself and I made you guys so worried, but-” Heʼs gonna cry, he can feel the way his voice catches in the back of his throat. “But Iʼm fine, I really am. And sorry. Iʼm also very sorry.” 

“Fuck, I thought you were beginning to hate us or something,” Niall laughs, but itʼs wet and tired. “If youʼre- if youʼre not happy here Harry, we can leave. We donʼt have to stay-” 

“I am. Iʼm happy guys, I really am. We donʼt have to leave and plus, Iʼm sure if we do end up leaving, itʼll make Liam hate me forever.” Zayn only stares at him a while longer before he takes two long strides up to Harry and wraps his arm tight and secure around him. He feels Niall come up to join them and soon, theyʼre just a bundle of tears and friendship and dumb boys who are family to each other. 

// 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go!! As I've said before, the next chapter will be a little late, so sorry about that:( 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. Without my [wonderful](http://www.letthemkissyou.tumblr.com/) [beta's](http://www.unshipping.tumblr.com/) this chapter wouldn't be decipherable or understandable, so thank you thank you thank you to them!
> 
> I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts, so drop a comment and let me know how you liked the chapter, but other than that, thank you for reading:)
> 
> \- Crest xx

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, how'd you like it?? Drop a comment if you wish, feedback is always appreciated (no seriously, please tell me what you thought) or come say hi on my [tumblr](http://www.harryendous.tumblr.com/)!  
> The next update will be sometime next week, so look out for that! Thank you for the read, I hope you enjoyed,
> 
> \- Crest xx


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